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THE 


PROMETHEUS  AND  AGAMEMNON 


OF 


^ISCHYLUS 

& 


TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH    VERSE, 


BY 


HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT. 


CAMBRIDGE: 

PUBLISHED   BY  JOHN  BARTLETT. 
to   tlje  Unibertfitp. 
1849. 


Ys^lA^ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849,  by 

JOHN    B ARTLETT , 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
METCALF     AND      COMPANY. 

PIUNTEHS    TO    THE    UNIVERSITY. 


T  O 


EDWARD    EVERETT, 

LATE     PRESIDENT     OP     HARVARD     UNIVERSITY, 
ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC., 


NOT  AS  TO  THE  ACCOMPLISHED   STATESMAN, 
NOT    AS    TO    THE    ELOQUENT    AND    FINISHED    ORATOR, 

BUT    AS    TO    THE    SCHOLAR 

MOST  THOROUGHLY  IMBUED  WITH  THE    PERFUME  OF  GREEK  LETTERS, 
THESE    TRANSLATIONS    FROM    THE    GREEK    DRAMA 

ARE    RESPECTFULLY  -DEDICATED, 

BY 
HENRY  WILLIAM  HERBERT. 


M105GS4 


TO 


ED  WARD     E  VERE  T  T, 

LATE   PRESIDENT   OF   HARVARD    UNIVERSITY, 
ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC. 


DEAR  SIR  :  — 

Although  I  have  not  the  vanity  to  imagine  that  you  need  any 
information  concerning  the  theatre  of  the  Greeks,  such  as  I 
could  furnish,  yet  a  few  remarks  are  perhaps  necessary  to  a 
correct  comprehension  and  appreciation  of  the  Hellenic  dra 
mas  by  those  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  character  of 
theatrical  representations  among  the  Greeks,  and  who  derive 
their  ideas  of  these  from  the  modern  stage,  and  the  —  as  they 
would  fain  be  styled  —  classical  plays  of  the  French  tragic 
school.  Now,  as  I  desire  to  explain  to  you  some  points  at 
which  I  have  aimed  in  these  translations,  you  will  perhaps 
excuse  my  troubling  you  with  a  few  words  on  a  subject  which 
I  know  you  love. 

I  am  not,  indeed,  about  to  enter  into  a  long  excursus  on  the 
theatre  of  the  Greeks,  or  to  descend  into  minute  particulars  ; 
for  these  would  be  to  scholars  superfluous  and  impertinent,  to 
the  many  uninteresting  and  wearisome ;  but  shall  merely  give 
such  a  general  view  of  the  nature  of  the  representation  and 
mode  of  performance  as  may  enable  the  general  reader  to 
form  a  correct  conception  of  these  masterpieces  of  Greek 
poetry. 

Few  persons,  I  presume,  are  ignorant,  that,  like  many  other 
amusements  of  the  ancient  Greeks, —  horse-racing,  for  instance, 
and  athletic  contests,  —  the  performance  of  tragedies  was 
a* 


VI  INTRODUCTORY   LETTER. 

a  sacred  rite,  a  solemn  religious  ceremony,  in  honor  of  the 
Gods ;  the  spectators  of  which  were  not  a  portion  of  the  people 
distinguished  from  the  mass  by  taste,  judgment,  the  desire  for 
amusement,  or  advantages  in  obtaining  it,  but  the  people  itself, 
the  nation  assembled  as  a  unity,  entitled  to  free  admission, 
and  participating  of  right  in  the  privilege  of  thus  at  the  same 
time  performing  an  act  of  solemn  adoration,  and  gratifying 
tastes  cultivated  by  these  very  ceremonials  to  a  degree  impos 
sible  among  the  masses  of  modern  times. 

How  highly  those  tastes  were  cultivated  is  evident  from  the 
capacity  of  the  people,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  to  enjoy 
poetry  of  such  a  nature  as  the  Greek  dramas,  purely  ideal, 
sesthetical,  and  appealing  less  directly  than  that  of  any  other 
school  to  the  ordinary  tastes  or  passions  of  a  multitude.  To 
the  representation,  therefore,  of  these  dramas  before  an  audi 
ence  at  once  so  large,  so  fastidiously  critical,  and  so  refined, 
every  member  of  which  lived  constantly  and  plied  his  daily 
labors  in  the  midst  of  those  masterpieces  of  sculptural  art 
which  in  our  times  are  shut  up  in  galleries  and  enjoyed  almost 
exclusively  by  the  rich,  and  was  thoroughly  qualified  to  pro 
nounce  on  matters  now  understood  by  a  few  only,  a  cor 
responding  scale  of  magnitude  and  style  of  magnificence  were 
essential. 

For  dramas,  the  patrons  of  which  were  the  immortal  Gods, 
the  subjects  the  deeds  of  demigods  and  heroes,  and  the  spec 
tators  a  nation,  theatres  were  required  of  colossal  proportions. 
And  such  were  the  theatres  of  the  Greeks ;  gigantic  edifices 
of  the  most  symmetrical  design  and  the  most  solid  materials, 
capable  of  accommodating  so  many  as  thirty  thousand  persons, 
rising  tier  above  tier  of  marble  seats,  topped  and  inclosed  by 
lofty  porticos,  adorned  by  statues  wrought  by  such  hands  as 
those  of  Phidias  and  Myron,  surmounted  by  balustraded  terra 
ces,  and  roofed  by  the  azure  vault  of  heaven. 

Open  aloft  to  the  delicious  beauty  of  a  Grecian  sky,  the  sun 
which  the  actors  invoked  was  the  real  orb  of  the  Greek  Day- 


INTRODUCTORY   LETTER.  Vll 

god,  the  ether  which  they  apostrophized  was  the  blue  expanse 
which  overhung  the  hill  of  Athens.  Above  them  towered  the 
many-templed  heights  of  the  Acropolis,  below  them  stretched 
away  the  plains  watered  by  the  sacred  streams  Cephisus  and 
Ilissus,  and  bounded  in  the  distance  by  the  waters  of  the  ever 
lasting  sea, —  and  you,  Sir,  whose  mind  is  so  Attic  in  its  tex 
ture,  can  well  conceive  what  a  thrill  must  have  shot  through 
every  nerve  of  the  excitable  Athenian,  as  he  witnessed  the 
performance  of  "  The  Persians,"  wherein  deeds  were  recorded 
in  which  he  himself  had  perchance  played  a  part,  in  which  the 
warrior  poet  who  composed  it  had  won  the  prize  of  valor,  of 
which  the  scene  was  those  very  plains,  that  very  sea,  —  for  the 
plain  on  which  he  looked  was  Marathon,  the  gulf  was  Salamis. 
In  theatres  of  such  an  order,  therefore,  and  with  subjects  of 
such  a  character,  nothing  of  frippery  or  gewgaw  decoration 
was  allowable,  —  no  gilded  pasteboard,  no  bedaubed  and  be 
spangled  canvas. 

The  scenery  of  the  proscenium  consisted  of  splendid  archi 
tectural  palaces,  with  altars  and  statues  of  the  Gods,  whose 
superhuman  and  ideal  beauty  would  seem  almost  to  justify 
their  worship ;  and  although  this  scenery  could  be  changed, 
and  was  changed,  to  a  degree  by  no  means  apprehended  in  the 
general  idea  of  the  classic  theatre,  all  the  changes  were  of 
corresponding  grandeur  and  magnificence. 

"  Of  the  now  extant  plays  of  Sophocles,  there  are  but  four 
which  would  not  require  a  change  of  proscenium.  The 
'CEdipus  Coloneus'  requires  a  grove,  the  '  Ajax'  a  camp,  and 
the  '  Philoctetes  '  an  island  solitude." 

In  these  instances  wooden  structures  were  thrust  forward, 
like  modern  slips,  painted  in  a  style  not  unworthy  of  the 
sister  arts,  and  arranged,  on  principles  of  perspective,  so  as  to 
produce  a  perfect  illusion.  On  occasions,  real  trees,  and  even 
rills  of  falling  water,  turf,  and  flowers,  were  introduced,  to  ren 
der  the  reality  complete.  This  was  facilitated  by  the  form  of 
the  Grecian  stage,  which  was  shallow,  but  exceedingly  wide,  a 


Vlll  INTRODUCTORY   LETTER. 

long,  narrow  parallelogram  of  several  hundred  feet,  affording 
ample  room  for  such  grand  contrivances,  and  for  the  display  of 
processions  and  the  marshalling  of  hosts  ;  since,  although  the 
number  of  real  actors  was  very  limited,  never  above  three  per 
sons  being  upon  the  stage  at  one  time,  the  mutes  were  far 
more  numerous  than  in  modern  days,  and  were  arrayed  and 
decorated  with  perfect  correctness  of  costume,  and  correspond 
ing  splendor.  Nothing  mean  or  tinselly  could  pass  current 
with  men  who  lived  among  the  masterpieces  of  Phidias  and 
Zeuxis,  and  were  accustomed  to  criticize  the  poetry  of  an 
JEschylus,  the  eloquence  of  a  Demosthenes. 

For  the  rest,  the  actors  were  masked,  because  every  charac 
ter  had  its  ideal  type,  and  the  face  of  Agamemnon  or  Achilles, 
much  more  of  Hermes,  Apollo,  or  Athene,  was  not  to  be  left 
to  the  trick  of  human  features. 

This,  which,  according  to  the  principles  of  modern  acting,  is 
inconceivable,  and  would  justly  be  regarded  as  a  horrible  de 
fect,  was  not  so  in  theatres  where  the  distance  at  which  objects 
were  viewed  was  so  great,  —  three  or  four  hundred  feet,  —  that, 
in  any  event,  the  play  of  the  features  would  be  necessarily  lost. 
The  glances  of  the  eye,  and  the  gesticulation  of  the  hands 
and  body,  were  all-sufficient  to  express  the  passions,  where  the 
very  passions  were  severe,  restrained,  and  majestical,  and  the 
language  in  the  highest  degree  rhythmical  and  modulated. 

Indeed,  Greek  acting  must  be  considered  very  much  in  ref 
erence  to  Greek  sculpture,  from  which  undoubtedly  its  atti 
tudes,  its  groupings,  its  proportions,  nay,  its  very  features,  were 
often  borrowed.  In  the  very  subjects  of  the  tragedies  there 
was  something  statuesque  ;  and  though  glittering  in  brazen  ar 
mour,  rustling  in  robes  of  Tyrian  crimson,  or  floating  in  saffron 
veils,  the  actors  of  the  Hellenic  theatres  must  be  regarded 
rather  as  playing  the  part  of  animated  statues,  than  as  the 
players  who  fret  and  fume  their  hour  on  our  modern  stage. 

With  regard  to  the  modes  of  the  choral  music  and  singing 
we  know  but  little,  nor  how  it  was  combined  with  the  spoken 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER.  IX 

portions  of  the  drama ;  but  that  the  harmony  between  the  two 
was  congruous  and  perfectly  preserved,  no  one  can  doubt,  who 
observes  the  unity  and  correctness  of  taste  which  seem  to 
have  pervaded  the  whole  Hellenic  mind.  No  portion  of  the 
singing,  it  is  probable,  degenerated  into  the  quavering  licen 
tiousness  of  the  operatic  styles,  none  of  the  spoken  parts  de 
scended  into  mere  ordinary  diction. 

The  one  was,  we  may  conjecture,  a  lofty  and  clearly  artic 
ulated  chanting,  set  to  music  suited  to  the  passions  of  the  sub 
ject  ;  the  other  a  species  of  sustained  recitative,  sufficiently 
colloquial  to  express  all  the  grander  passions,  yet  sufficiently 
rhythmical  to  avoid  the  vulgarisms  of  mere  conversational 
parlance. 

Lastly,  as  the  scenes  could  be  changed,  and  architectural 
exteriors  wheeled  round  so  as  to  display  interiors,  as  groves 
were  run  forward  to  conceal  palaces,  so  had  they  all  machinery 
by  which  to  introduce  Gods  floating  upon  winged  chariots,  or 
riding  upon  pinioned  monsters,  —  ghosts  ascending  into  light  su 
pernal,  or  sinking  down  to  Hades;  they  had  their  thunders  and 
lightnings,  their  storms  and  darknesses,  in  short,  all  the  appli 
ances  for  producing  every  requisite  illusion ;  and  that,  it  is 
probable, — both  from  analogy,  and  from  what  has  been  dis 
covered  of  colossal  devices  of  machinery  in  the  ruined  tem 
ples  of  Eleusis,  —  in  far  greater  perfection  than  we  now  pos 
sess  them. 

Suffice  it,  that  in  all  respects  the  theatres  of  the  ancients 
were  equal  to  the  nature  of  their  dramas,  and  corresponding 
to  the  state  of  the  arts  in  an  age  and  nation  in  which  every 
thing,  even  to  the  details  of  every-day  life,  was  artistical,  and 
imbued  with  a  spirit  of  grace  and  beauty. 

And  now  a  few  words  with  regard  to  my  treatment  of 
the  subject,  and  some  peculiarities  which  will  doubtless  strike 
you  in  the  manner  of  its  execution. 

The  principal  object  which  I  proposed  to  myself  in  the  fol 
lowing  translations  was,  to  convey  as  nearly  as  possible  to  the 


X  INTRODUCTORY   LETTER. 

English  reader,  not  only  the  letter,  but  the  spirit,  of  the  origi 
nal  ;  the  rules  which  I  laid  down  to  myself  were  perfect  liter- 
alness,  an  avoidance  of  paraphrase,  circumlocution,  and  am 
plification,  to  the  utmost  extent  admitted  by  the  structure  of 
the  English  language  ;  and  above  all,  even  if  it  should  be 
necessary  to  add  words  in  order  to  convey  the  sense,  never  to 
interpolate  ideas. 

It  struck  me,  that,  in  all  former  translations  of  the  Greek  dra 
mas,  the  use  of  regular  set  English  metres  and  stanzaic  forms, 
for  the  representation  of  irregular  though  corresponding  stro 
phes  and  antistrophes,  prevented  the  reader  from  forming  any 
true  idea  of  the  Greek  choral  modes,  and  rendered  it  impossi 
ble  to  preserve  the  brevity  and  terseness  of  the  original.  I 
therefore  determined  to  render  them  as  nearly  to  the  measures 
of  the  original  as  the  difference  between  a  quantitative  lan 
guage  like  the  Greek,  and  one  purely  accentual  like  the  Eng 
lish,  would  admit. 

Thus  the  iambics  of  the  text  are  given  in  blank  verse,  which 
is  their  equivalent,  with  but  one  exception.  Wherever  those 
singular  dialogues  of  alternate  single  iambics,  or  iambic  coup 
lets,  so  peculiar  to  the  Hellenic  dramas,  occur,  1  have  rendered 
them  into  rhymed  heroic  couplets,  —  and  this  for  two  reasons  ; 
first,  that  the  system  of  English  blank  verse  abhors  single  un 
connected  lines ;  and  second,  that  these  alternate  conversa 
tions  have  always  something  epigrammatic  in  their  character, 
which  harmonizes  well  with  the  antithetical  point  of  the  heroic 
couplet. 

The  anapaests  of  the  Greek,  in  which  our  poet  is  the  strong 
est  of  all  the  tragedians,  I  have  translated  into  accentual  Eng 
lish  anapaests,  thinking  that  they  convey  something  of  the  rush 
ing  rapidity  of  the  original  ;  and  the  long  trochaics  into  Alex 
andrines,  so  constructed,  that,  as  in  the  trochaic  the  last  twelve 
syllables,  the  first  two  being  cut  away,  form  a  regular  iambic, 
so  in  the  Alexandrines  the  last  ten,  similarly  separated,  form  a 
blank  verse. 


INTRODUCTORY   LETTER.  XI 

Beyond  this  I  have  nothing  to  say.  If  to  the  scholar  my 
translation  appears  to  be  a  transfusion  of  the  spirit  and  letter 
of  the  Greek  text  into  our  own  tongue,  and  to  the  English 
reader  reads  like  an  original  English  composition,  not  unpos 
sessed  of  poetic  merit,  I  have  measurably  succeeded  in  my 
aim;  never  having  it  in  view,  even  as  a  possibility,  to  equal  the 
majesty  or  attain  the  sublimity  of  the  original. 

In  the  next  place,  I  have  adopted  throughout  the  Hellenic 
names  of  the  Hellenic  divinities,  never  having  been  able  to  dis 
cover  the  slightest  grounds  for  emasculating  the  grand  Titanic 
Gods  of  the  old  Greek  Olympus  into  the  formal  deities  of  the 
Latin  mythology.  There  is  no  more  in  common  between  the 
Zeus  and  Here,  the  Ares  and  Artemis,  of  Greece,  and  the  Ju 
piter  and  Juno,  the  Mars  and  Diana,  of  Rome,  than  there  is  of 
similitude  between  JEschylus  and  Seneca ;  and  writing  of  the 
Hellenic  Gods,  I  have  chosen  to  designate  them  as  they  were 
known  to  the  Hellenes  of  Hellas.  For  the  same  cause,  I  have 
reverted  in  all  Greek  proper  names  to  the  Greek  terminations 
os  and  e,  in  lieu  of  the  Latin  us  and  a;  to  the  Greek  diphthongs 
ai  and  oi,  in  lieu  of  the  Latin  ce  and  & ;  and  lastly,  to  the  Greek 
&,  in  place  of  the  Latin  c ;  bringing  the  whole  system  of  no 
menclature,  both  of  persons  and  places,  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
the  true  Hellenic  standard.  The  only  exception  is  in  the  few 
Greek  adjectives  which  have  become  so  engrafted  on  our  lan 
guage  as  to  be  now  almost  English  words,  which  to  alter  or 
amend  would  appear  an  affectation.  For,  detesting  all  affecta 
tions,  there  is  none  which  I  hold  so  detestable  as  that  of  setting 
up  for  neologizer  or  improver  of  the  English  tongue  ;  deeming 
it  probable  that  such  men  as  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  Jeremy 
Taylor  and  the  translators  of  the  Oxford  Bible,  are  not  one 
iota  less  likely  to  have  understood  the  principles  of  the  great 
language  which  they  have  rendered  immortal,  than  any  ob 
scure  country  schoolmaster  who  chooses  to  compile,  or  any 
pragmatical  printers  who  choose  to  force  upon  the  world,  a 
standard  of  lexicography. 


Xll  INTRODUCTORY   LETTER. 

The  text  which  I  have  adopted  is,  in  the  main,  that  of  James 
Scholefeld,  the  Regius  Professor  of  Greek  Literature  at  Cam 
bridge  ;  which  I  regard,  on  the  whole,  as  the  best  and  most  sat 
isfactory.  In  the  Prometheus  I  have  in  no  respect  varied  from 
it.  In  the  Agamemnon,  though  generally  adhering  to  it,  and 
accepting  entire  its  numeration  and  rhythmical  arrangement,  I 
have  adopted  in  some  of  the  obscurer  passages  the  emenda 
tions  of  Peile,  Klausen,  Schneider,  and  Felton,  to  all  of  whom 
I  confess  my  obligation. 

For  the  rest,  Sir,  should  you  discover  any  evidences  of 
scholarship  in  the  following  translations,  I  am  proud  to  record 
my  indebtedness  for  it  to  one  whom  we  both,  I  know,  regard 
most  highly  as  a  friend,  and  to  whom  I  am  under  endless  ob 
ligation  for  his  skill  and  kindness  in  fashioning  my  mind  to  a 
love  of  letters,  —  I  mean,  as  you,  Sir,  will  readily  conjecture, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Hawtrey,  once  my  tutor,  and  now  head -master 
of  Eton  College,  with  whom  I  first  read  the  two  noble  plays 
the  translation  of  which  you  have  allowed  me  the  honor  of 
dedicating  to  you. 

Believe,  Sir,  that  I  remain,  with  the  most  respectful  consid 
eration,  your  friend  and  servant, 

HENRY   WILLIAM   HERBERT. 

THE  CEDARS,  June  16,  1849. 


THE 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED 


OF 


^SCHYLUS. 


INTRODUCTION. 


THIS  magnificent  tragedy,  which,  as  it  is  the  first  usually 
placed  in  the  hands  of  students  of  our  author,  is  likewise  the 
first  that  I  have  attempted  to  render  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  preserve  as  much  as  possible  the  spirit,  motion,  and  rhythm 
of  the  original,  is  in  many  respects  widely  different  from  any 
of  the  ancient  Hellenic  dramas,  and  therefore  much  more  at 
variance  with  our  ideas  of  tragedy. 

In  the  first  place,  it  has  no  human  personages  whatever,  nor 
any  direct  human  interest;  appealing  only  to  mere  mortal 
sympathies  as  in  behalf  of  the  suffering  mediator,  friend, 
and  saviour,  who  is  represented  as  punished  by  the  superior 
force  of  Zeus  mainly  on  account  of  his  philanthropic  mood. 
In  the  second  place,  it  entirely  lacks  every  thing  approaching 
to  exterior  action,  and,  indeed,  to  action  at  all,  except  at  the 
very  opening  of  the  plot. 

Vicissitude  there  is,  indeed,  and  a  directly  continuous  prog 
ress  toward  the  final  catastrophe  of  the  drama,  although  that 
progress  is  worked  out  through  a  train  of  episodical  entrances 
of  persons  but  slenderly  connected  with  the  thread  of  the 
piece,  and  acting  the  part  rather  of  incidental  agents  than  of 
characters,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word. 

Still,  such  is  the  sublimity  of  the  subject,  —  an  immortal  God 
doomed  to  immortal  suffering  in  consequence  of  his  good-will 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 


toward  poor  humanity,  knowing  the  course  of  fate  to  the  very 
end,  yet  never  despairing,  never  succumbing  to  the  might  of  his 
tormentor,  but  glorying  in  the  immortality  even  of  his  capacity 
to  suffer,  defying  his  enemies  to  shake  his  resolute  resistance, 
and  upheld  by  his  consciousness  of  right,  —  the  splendor  of  the 
language,  the  fervor  of  the  prophetic  diction,  the  glory  of  the 
leading  character,  as  evinced  by  his  consistency  of  will  and  by 
his  harmony  of  thought  and  language,  — not  to  forget  the  su 
perb  and  stately  flow  of  the  tragical  iambics,  the  rapid  rush  of 
the  unequalled  anaprests,  and  the  almost  dithyrambic  wildness 
of  some  of  the  choral  strains,  —  that  these  have  rendered  it,  in 
all  times,  one  of  the  most  elect  favorites  of  the  tragical  student, 
and  that  it  will  never  lose  its  especial  charm  of  supernatural 
grandeur  of  subject,  and  exquisite  rhythmical  perfection,  while 
the  grand  language,  of  which  it  is  one  of  the  chiefest  orna 
ments,  lives  in  the  mouths  of  men. 

I  cannot  here  do  better  than  quote,  from  the  third  edition  of 
"  The  Theatre  of  the  Greeks,"  a  passage  ably  translated  from 
one  of  SchlegePs  lectures  in  relation  to  this  tragedy,  as  ex 
pressing  so  fully  the  nature  of  the  piece  that  it  would  be 
impertinent  to  attempt  to  improve  upon  it. 

"  The  Prometheus  Bound  is  the  representation  of  steadfast 
endurance  of  suffering,  and,  indeed,  the  immortal  suffering  of 
a  God.     Banished  to  a  desolate  rock  over  against  the    earth- 
encircling  ocean,  this  play  nevertheless  takes  in  the  world,  the 
Olympus  of  the  gods,  and  earth,  the  abode  of  man,  all  scarcely 
yet  reposing  in  a  state  of  security  over  the  precipitous  abyss 
of  the  dark  primeval  powers  of  Titanism.     The  notion  of  a 
deity  delivering  himself  up  as  a  sacrifice  has  been  mysterious 
ly  inculcated  in  many  religions,  as  a  confused  foreboding  of 
the  true  one,  but  here  it  stands  in  most  fearful  contrast  with 
consolatory  revelation.     For   Prometheus   suffers,  not  on   an 
understanding  with   the    power   that    rules   the  world,  but   in 
atonement  for  his  rebellion  against  that  power ;  and  this  rebel 
lion  consists  in  nothing  else  than  his  design  of  making  man 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

perfect.  Thus  he  becomes  a  type  of  Humanity  itself;  as, 
gifted  with  an  unblessed  foresight,  riveted  to  its  own  narrow 
existence,  and  destitute  of  all  allies,  it  has  nothing  to  oppose  to 
the  inexorable  powers  of  nature  arrayed  against  it  but  an  un 
shaken  will  and  the  consciousness  of  its  own  sublime  preten 
sions.  The  other  inventions  of  the  Greek  tragedians  are 
single  tragedies.  This  I  might  say  is  Tragedy  herself,  her  in 
most  spirit  revealed  in  all  the  prostrating  and  annihilating  force 
of  its  hitherto  unmitigated  austerity." 

This  tragedy,  as  was  usual  with  the  Athenians,  composed 
one  of  what  is  termed  a  trilogy,  or  group  of  three  dramas  on 
one  subject,  and  proceeding  regularly  from  the  origin  to  the 
catastrophe  of  a  tale  too  long  and  complicated,  as  well  as  con 
taining- too  many  actors,  to  be  adapted  to  the  strict  rules  of  the 
Hellenic  stage.  The  English  reader  will  find  something  anal 
ogous  to  this  arrangement  in  our  own  Shakspeare's  mode  of 
dealing  with  the  crimes  and  punishments  of  the  rival  houses  of 
York  and  Lancaster,  through  a  series  of  tragedies  each  in 
itself  distinct  and  perfect.  These  were  not,  however,  as  was 
the  case  in  Athens,  presented  to  the  audience  consecutively,  or 
in  a  single  day. 

The  "  Prometheus  Fettered "  was  thus  one  of  three,  al 
though  it  is  remarkable,  if  not  anomalous,  that  the  first  piece 
of  an  Hellenic  trilogy  should  be,  as  was  the  "Fire-bearing 
Prometheus,"  a  satyric  drama.  The  "  Prometheus  Fettered  " 
was  the  second,  and  was  succeeded  by  the  "  Prometheus  Re 
leased,"  which  brought  the  mythus  to  an  end  by  the  accom 
plishment  of  the  prophecies,  the  God's  release  by  Herakles,  the 
descendant  of  lo  in  the  thirteenth  generation,  marking  the 
period  of  his  tortures,  and  his  ultimate  reconciliation  with 
Zeus. 

The  time  occupied  in  this  drama  is  nowhere  defined  ;  but 

it  is  uninterrupted,  and  the  action  is  directly  continuous.     The 

scene  remains  unchanged  from  the  beginning  of  the  piece  to 

the  catastrophe  ;  when  the  whole  landscape,  with  the  actors, 

i* 


O  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

disappears,  amid  a  tempest  of  fire,  hail,  and  thunder.  The 
scene  presents  in  the  centre  a  huge  isolated  crag,  which  is 
supposed  to  be  one  of  the  lower  heights  of  Caucasus,  situate 
in  the  gorge  of  a  wild  mountainous  glen,  savage  and  ice-bound, 
overlooking  the  ocean. 

The  piece  opens  by  the  entrance  of  Strength,  Force,  Ile- 
phaistos,  and  Prometheus,  the  latter  led  in  as  a  prisoner. 

Strength  begins  by  commanding  Hephaistos,  in  obedience  to 
the  injunctions  of  Zeus,  to  bind  the  Fire-stealer  to  the  rocks, 
in  this  Scythian  solitude,  the  utmost  tract  of  earth,  as  an  atone 
ment  for  his  treason  to  the  Gods  and  his  fondness  for  mortals. 

Hephaistos  objects,  expresses  his  reluctance  and  his  sympa 
thy  for  Prometheus,  but  is  urged  and  compelled  to  his  unwilling 
task ;  when  they  proceed  to  chain  and  nail  Prometheus  to  the 
rock  in  the  centre,  the  horrible  process  being  described  at 
length  in  alternate  iambic  verses,  between  Strength,  urging 
forward,  and  Hephaistos,  bemoaning,  the  work  which  is  to  be 
accomplished.  Force  is  a  mute  personage,  arid  Prometheus 
preserves  an  indignant  silence  during  the  presence  of  his 
tormentors. 

These  having  departed,  he  bursts  forth  into  a  brief  lamenta 
tion  and  invocation  to  the  powers  of  nature  to  look  down  upon 
his  unjust  doom  ;  but  he  speedily  recovers  his  equanimity,  and 
consoles  himself  by  the  consideration  that  it  is  best  to  bear 
lightly  that  which  must  be  borne. 

Here  he  is  interrupted  by  a  strange  perfume  floating  on  the 
air,  and  the  sound  of  many  wings  beating  the  ether,  of  which 
he  is,  at  first,  inclined  to  augur  ill. 

Then  enter  the  Chorus  of  Okeanides,  in  a  winged  chariot, 
who  sing,  as  they  hover  above  the  crag,  a  consolatory  ode, 
between  the  strophes  of  which  Prometheus  replies  in  sonorous 
anapaests.  After  this,  Prometheus  relates,  in  iambic  verse,  at 
the  request  of  the  Chorus,  the  offence  which  he  had  given  to 
Zeus,  after  having  established  him  on  the  throne  of  Kronos,  by 
attempting  to  perfect  the  race  of  mortals.  An  alternate  dia- 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

logue  follows,  and  then,  at  the  invitation  of  Prometheus,  the 
Chorus  descend  from  their  car,  and  take  their  station  in  the 
orchestra,  to  an  anapaestic  mode.  To  these  enters  Okeanos, 
riding  on  a  winged  horse,  and  addresses  his  brother-Titan  in  a 
half-sympathetic  strain,  to  which  Prometheus  replies  with  hesi 
tation  and  distrust. 

Okeanos  replies,  counselling  submission  to  Zeus,  in  appre 
hension  of  worse  woes  to  come  thereafter.  Prometheus  tells 
him  in  reply,  that  his  counsel  is  timid  and  selfish ;  relates  the 
fate  of  his  brother-Titan,  Atlas,  and  of  Typhon,  pressed  beneath 
the  roots  of  .^tna,  and  scornfully  advises  him  to  shun  the  like 
consequence  of  sympathy  with  himself,  and  so  dismisses  him. 

After  his  departure,  the  Chorus  sing  an  ode  commemorating 
and  compassionating  the  fall  of  the  elder  Gods.  Prometheus 
follows  with  a  description  of  the  various  gifts  he  had  bestowed 
upon  mortals,  the  arts  and  sciences  he  had  taught  them,  and 
ends  by  saying  that  all  they  possess  they  owe  to  Prometheus. 
He  then  proceeds  darkly  to  insinuate  that  an  awful  retribution 
is  predestined,  and  must  certainly  befall  Zeus  himself,  who 
now  oppresses  him  ;  but  he  declines  at  present  to  speak  plainly, 
asserting  only  that  he  shall  at  some  future  period  be  released 
from  his  fetters,  but  not  until  he  shall  have  been  bent  by  ten 
thousand  calamities. 

A  third  ode,  brief  but  beautiful,  follows  from  the  Chorus, 
expressing  their  earnest  hopes  that  Fate  will  never  set  their 
opinion  at  variance  with  the  Gods,  —  their  horror  at  the  suffer 
ings  of  Prometheus, —  their  doubts  of  his  wisdom  in  succouring 
so  frail  and  unprofitable  a  race  as  that  of  mortal  man,  —  and 
concluding  by  a  splendid  contrast  between  his  present  sorrows 
and  the  glad  days,  when  they  celebrated  his  glorious  bridal 
with  their  sister  Hesione. 

Thereupon  lo  enters,  horned  like  a  heifer,  driven  frantic  by 
the  gad-fly,  at  the  suggestion  of  Here's  jealous  hatred,  and  bursts 
into  a  series  of  ravings,  in  a  lyrical  ode.  She  is  astonished  at  the 
recognition  of  herself  by  Prometheus,  and  his  knowledge  of  her 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

parentage  and  history  ;  and,  in  a  second  ode,  implores  him  to 
inform  her  who  he  is,  wherefore  he  suffers  here,  and  what  shall 
be  the  termination  of  her  own  sorrows  and  wanderings.  After 
a  somewhat  tedious  dialogue  in  alternate  verses,  it  is  determin 
ed  that  lo  shall  first  relate,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Chorus,  the 
origin  of  her  evils.  This  she  proceeds  to  do,  in  a  long  speech, 
descriptive  of  those  divine  dreams  which  haunted  her  virgin 
sleep,  suggesting  the  passion  of  Zeus  for  her ;  of  her  father's 
fruitless  consultation  at  the  oracles  ;  of  the  last  denunciation, 
which  compelled  Inachos  to  banish  her ;  of  the  transformation 
of  her  person,  and  the  distraction  of  her  mind  ;  of  her  persecu 
tion  by  the  gad-fly;  of  the  death  of  the  giant  Argos ;  and,  final 
ly,  of  her  arrival  at  the  Scythian  glen.  Thereafter  Prometheus 
describes,  at  length,  her  future  wanderings,  —  thence  to  the 
land  of  the  Scythians,  Chalybians,  and  Amazons,  which  last, 
he  tells  her,  shall  conduct  her  safely  to  the  Cimmerian  isthmus, 
at  the  gate  of  the  Mseotic  strait,  which  she  is  directed  boldly 
to  swim  over,  quitting  European  ground  for  the  Asiatic  conti 
nent.  A  dialogue  again  ensues,  after  which  Prometheus  re 
sumes  his  narrative  of  her  future  woes,  telling  her  that  she 
must  travel  thence,  having  passed  the  channel  dividing  the  two 
continents,  due  eastward  till  she  reaches  the  plains  where  dwell 
the  Phorkides  and  Gorgons  ;  thence,  by  the  Gryphons  and  the 
one-eyed  Arimaspians,  still  eastward  to  the  black  tribes  and 
the  ^Ethiop  River;  which  she  is  directed  to  follow  till  she  shall 
arrive  at  the  Cataract  of  the  Nile,  whence  she  is  to  descend 
the  river  to  the  Delta,  where  it  is  fated  that  she  and  her  pos 
terity  shall  found  a  great  and  glorious  colony. 

After  this,  again,  in  order  to  give  her  confidence  in  the  truth 
of  his  words,  he  relates  her  previous  wanderings  from  the 
plains  of  Argos,  over  the  Molossian  land,  to  Dodone,  and 
thence  to  the  lower  part  of  the  Gulf  of  Rhea,  which  shall  be 
called  Ionian  for  ever,  in  memory  of  her  swimming  across  it. 
Thence  he  digresses  to  her  posterity  ;  telling  how,  at  Canopus, 
on  the  Delta  of  the  Nile,  she  shall  be  restored  to  her  senses  by 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

the  touch  of  the  hand  of  Zeus,  in  consequence  of  which  touch 
she  will  bear  one  who  shall  be  progenitor  in  the  fifth  genera 
tion  of  the  Danaides  ;  and  that  these,  flying  from  the  marriage 
of  their  cousins,  the   sons  of  Aigyptos,  shall   return  again  to 
Argos.     That  there  Hypermnestra,  who  alone  shall  spare  her 
husband  Lynkeus,— all  her  sisters  murdering  their  bridegrooms, 
—  shall  bear  a  royal  race  ;  whence,  after  many  generations, 
shall  be  born  one  brave,  and  famous  with  the  bow,  who  shall 
release  him  from  his  bonds.     The  Chorus  burst  into  an  ode 
deprecatory  of  unequal   marriages.     Prometheus,  encouraged 
and  excited  by  the  prophecy  of  his  own  release,  commences  a 
strain  of  bitter  prophetic  invective  against  Zeus,  announcing 
his  downfall  by  the  superiority  of  his  own  son,  begotten    of 
some    future    marriage.      Hermes   arrives,  proclaiming   fresh 
torture  to  Prometheus,  unless  he  shall  explain  the  prophecy, 
and  disclose  what  is  the  marriage  which  shall  prove  so  fatal  to 
Zeus.     This  Prometheus  refuses  to  do,  defies  Zeus,  and   an 
nounces  his    unalterable  resolution  never  to  reveal  one  word 
until  his  chains  shall  be  loosed.     Hermes  declares  what  shall 
follow,  —  the  thunder-striking  of  Prometheus,  his   being   cast 
into  Tartaros,  and  again  sent  up  to  the  light  of  day,  where  the 
eagle  shall  daily  devour  his  liver.     The  Chorus  advise  submis 
sion.    Prometheus,  in  bold  and  grand  iambics,  affirms  his  knowl 
edge  of  all  that  shall  come  to  pass ;  defies  Zeus  to  do  his  worst ; 
for  that,  at  least,  he  can  never  kill  him.     Hermes  warns  the 
Chorus  to  leave  Prometheus  to  his  fate,  which  they  indignantly 
refuse ;  and  the  destruction  commences,  Prometheus  describing 
it,  still  undaunted  and  unyielding,  and  falling  into  the  abyss  in 
the  midst  of  his  invocation  to  his  mother  Themis,  and  to  the 
Ether,  which  contains  the  light  and  life  of  the  world,  to  behold 
how  unjustly  he  suffers.     Thus  ends  the  drama  of  Prometheus 
Fettered. 

It  will  doubtless  appear,  at  first  sight,  to  the  English  reader,, 
that  there  is  no  direct  action  or  progression  of  events ;  that  the 
catastrophe  is  destructive  of  virtue,  and  therefore  at  variance 


10  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

with  poetical  justice  ;  and,  lastly,  that  the  episode  of  lo  is  in 
troduced  nothing  to  the  purpose,  and  unconnected  with  the 
interest  of  the  piece.  On  reflection,  however,  we  shall  find 
that  none  of  this  is  the  case.  Action,  it  is  true,  there  is,  literal 
ly  speaking,  none;  but  progression  of  events,. which  is  dra 
matic  action,  there  is  abundantly,  and  tending  straight  to  the 
catastrophe. 

Prometheus  is  introduced,  first  punished  for  his  benevolence 
to  mortals.  To  the  Chorus,  and  to  Okeanos,  he  indulges  in 
blind  and  dark  denunciations  of  Zeus ;  this  is  the  commence 
ment  of  the  onward  action,  the  beginning  of  his  new  crime, 
which  in  the  end  draws  on  him  new  retribution.  lo  arrives, 
and  her  arrival  suggests  to  him  a  species  of  wild  consolation,  as 
he  recognizes  in  her  the  progenitrix  of  the  demigod  Herakles, 
who  is  predestined,  in  after  days,  to  release  him.  Consoled  by 
this,  he  indulges  in  fresh  denunciations,  and  relates  to  lo  her 
whole  future  doom,  thus  incensing  Zeus  still  farther;  and,  to 
complete  his  offending,  he  speaks  out  concerning  the  marriage 
which  he  says  Zeus  is  planning  to  contract,  in  consequence  of 
which,  if  contracted,  he  shall  fall,  —  a  marriage  which  no  one 
of  the  Gods  knows,  or  can  divulge,  but  himself  alone.  In  con 
sequence  of  refusing  to  declare  distinctly  what  that  marriage 
shall  be,  he  is  punished,  as  it  had  been  proclaimed  that  he 
should  be  in  case  of  obdurate  silence.  Thus  we  have  an  on 
ward  progress  of  events,  tending  to  a  catastrophe  ;  we  have 
the  introduction  of  lo,  not  an  episode,  but  the  keystone  of  the 
plot;  and,  lastly,  we  have  a  catastrophe,  grand,  piteous,  and  in 
every  way  worthy  of  the  majesty  of  the  great  drama. 

With  regard  to  its  accordance  with  poetical  justice,  we  have 
two  things  to  observe  ;  first,  that,  were  there  any  such  thing  as 
poetical  justice  as  a  law  of  the  Greek  drama,  its  non-observance 
here  could  not  be  complained  of  with  propriety,  this  drama 
being  only  the  second  of  a  trilogy,  the  first  of  which  was 
the  Fire-bearing  Prometheus,  and  the  last  the  Prometheus 
Released.  Both  of  these  are  unfortunately  lost ;  a  few 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

fragments  only  of  the  latter  having  been  preserved  by  Arrian, 
Strabo,  Galen,  Plutarch,  and  others.  These  fragments  are, 
however,  sufficient  to  show,  if  the  names  were  not,  that  the 
plot  of  this  tragedy  was  the  release  of  Prometheus  by  Herakles, 
his  reconciliation  with  Zeus,  his  restoration  to  his  goodly  state, 
and  his  explanation  of  the  prophecies  concerning  the  disastrous 
marriage,  by  which  explanation  the  throne  of  heaven  is  pre 
served  to  its  present  owner.  This  marriage,  by  the  way,  was 
that  which  Zeus  proposed  to  contract  with  Thetis.  It  was 
foredoomed  by  a  most  secret  destiny,  beyond  the  ken  of  Zeus, 
that  she  should  bear  a  son,  mightier  than  his  father.  Had 
Zeus  therefore  wedded  her,  he  must  have  fallen  from  his 
throne  in  heaven.  Learning  this,  however,  from  Prometheus, 
he  gave  her  to  Peleus,  to  whom  she  bore  Achilles,  greater  than 
Peleus,  and  thereby  the  predestined  woes  were  transferred 
from  heaven  to  earth,  and  accomplished  by  the  fall  of  Troy, 
and  by  the  consummation  of  the  dark  destinies  of  the  house  of 
Atreus. 

The  truth,  however,  is,  that  the  idea  of  poetical  justice  is 
entirely  modern,  —  the  old  Greek  masters  knew  it  not.  Des 
tiny,  and  not  justice,  was  the  grand  principle  which  they  loved 
to  celebrate ;  and  virtue,  not  rewarded,  but  struggling  resolutely 
and  dauntlessly  against  the  wrongs  of  Fate,  was  the  spectacle 
which  they  deemed  noblest  and  most  worthy  the  tragic  lyre. 
Poetical  justice  is,  indeed,  as  has  been  brilliantly  and  truth 
fully  observed  by  a  popular  and  ingenious  writer,*  after  all  but 
"  a  poor  and  petty  morality,  a  justice  existing  not  in  our  work 
day  world  ;  a  justice  existing  not  in  the  sombre  page  of  his 
tory  ;  a  justice  existing  not  in  the  loftier  conceptions  of  men 
whose  genius  has  grappled  with  the  enigmas  which  art  and 
poetry  only  can  foreshadow  and  divine,  —  unknown  to  us  in  the 
street  and  the  market,  —  unknown  to  us  on  the  scaffold  of  the 
patriot,  or  in  the  flame  of  the  martyr,  —  unknown  to  us  in  the 

*  Bulwer,  in  "  The  Last  of  the  Barons." 


12  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

Lear  and  the  Hamlet,  in  the  Agamemnon  and  the  Prome 
theus";  and,  he  might  have  added,  unknown  entirely,  as  a 
principle  of  composition,  to  any  one  of  the  great  old  trage 
dians. 

It  would  be  curious  to  observe,  in  a  synopsis  of  the  wander 
ings  of  lo,  the  strange  and  crude  ideas  of  geography  entertained 
by  the  wisest  of  the  wise  and  polished  Greeks.  But  as  the 
question  is  one  of  antiquarian,  rather  than  of  poetical  interest, 
and  is,  besides,  full  of  difficulty  from  the  irreconcilable  errors 
of  the  dramatist,  we  refrain  from  touching  upon  its  details. 
We  cannot  but  believe,  however,  that  in  some  sort  the  mythi 
cal  wanderings  of  lo  are  intended  to  adumbrate  the  origin  and 
voyages  of  the  Ionian  race ;  their  crossing  the  Ionian  Gulf,  and 
colonizing  the  southeastern  coast  of  Italy,  thence  known  as 
Magna  Grecia  ;  their  colonizing  all  the  Thracian  Chersonese, 
and  all  the  shores  both  north  and  south  of  the  Black  Sea ;  and 
their  trading  with  the  ^Egyptian  cities  of  the  Delta,  where  the 
horned  Isis,  similar  to  the  horned  lo,  would  naturally  lead  to 
the  idea  of  a  common  origin.  It  is  not  here  unworthy  of  men 
tion,  that,  according  to  Diodorus  Siculus,  the  Ionian  Greeks 
were  allowed  only  to  trade  with  the  ^Egyptian  Delta  through 
that  mouth  of  the  Nile  on  which  stood  the  city  of  Canopus, 
mentioned  in  the  text  of  the  tragedy  as  colonized  by  lo's 
progeny. 

Trusting  that  the  remarks  prefixed  to  the  translation  of  the 
Prometheus  Fettered  may  neither  appear  superfluous  to  learn 
ed,  nor  wearisome  to  unlearned  readers,  I  submit  to  them  the 
text  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  if  not  the  most  beautiful,  of  the 
time-honored  tragedies  of  Athens. 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PROMETHEUS. 


STRENGTH. 

FORCE. 

HEPIIAISTOS. 

PROMETHEUS. 

CHORUS,  of  Ocean  Nymphs. 

OKEANOS. 

lo,  the  daughter  of  Inachos. 

HERMES. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 


The  scene  is  a  wild  and  rocky  glen  in  the  gorges  of  the  Scythian  Caucasus.  It 
must  be  understood,  however,  that  the  Caucasus  of  JKschylus  is  situate  in 
Europe,  far  to  the  north  and  west  of  its  true  position. 

The  time  is  not  defined,  but  the  action  is  directly  continuous. 

STRENGTH,  FORCE,  HEPHAISTOS,  PROMETHEUS. 
STRENGTH. 

WE  have  arrived  the  outmost  tract  of  earth, 

The  Scythian  waste,  the  pathless  solitude, 

And  thine  it  is,  Hephaistos,  to  enforce 

The  Sire's  injunctions,  —  high  on  towering  crags 

This  strong  one  insolent  to  fetter  fast  5 

In  deathless  bonds  of  adamantine  chain  ; 

"Who  thine  own  flower  of  all-creative  flame 

Stole,  and  to  mortals  gave ;  and  so  must  pay 

The  wrathful  Gods  his  rank  offence's  fine, 

Taught  by  hard  sufferance  to  revere  the  sway  10 

Of  Zeus  supreme,  and  cease  his  love  for  men. 


16  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

HEPHAISTOS. 

0  Strength  and  Force,  on  you,  too,  Zeus'  command 
Is  binding,  and  nought  hinders;  but,  for  me, 

1  lack  the  hardihood  by  might  to  bind 

In  this  wild-winter  gorge  a  kindred  God.  15 

Yet  must  I  now  that  hardihood  put  on, 

Or  brave  dread  wrath,  and  scorn  the  Sire's  decree. 

Unwilling,  therefore,  thee,  unwilling  quite, 

In  difficult  bonds,  0  lofty-minded  child 

Of  that  right-counselling  Themis,  I  must  nail  20 

To  this  wild  rock,  from  mortal  haunts  afar; 

Where  neither  voice  nor  any  form  of  men 

Descrying,  burnt  by  the  sun's  scorching  blaze, 

Thy  skin's  fair  flower  shalt  change.     Then  glad  to  thee 

Shall  starry-mantled  night  blot  out  the  day, —  25 

Glad  the  sun  scatter  the  hoar  dews  of  morn. 

For  aye  the  bitterness  of  present  pain 

Shall  sting;  and  he  is  yet  to  be  conceived 

Who  shall  release  thee.     This  must  thou  endure 

For  thy  man-loving  mood,  who,  though  a  God,  30 

Didst  give  to  earthlings,  in  the  Gods'  despite, 

Honor  undue.     Then  guard  this  rock  of  woe, 

Upstanding,  sleepless,  with  unbended  knee, 

And  many  a  wail  send  forth,  and  fruitless  moan  ; 

For  most  inexorable  is  the  will  of  Zeus,  35 

And  stern  the  rule  of  all  whose  rule  is  new. 

STRENGTH. 
Why  loiterest  thou,  and  if  it  e'en  be  so, 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  17 

In  pity  for  this  God  to  Gods  a  foe, 
Who  gave  thy  glory  to  the  worms  below  ? 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Kindred  and  friendship  are  connections  strong.  40 

STRENGTH. 

They  are.     But  how  the  mandates  high  to  wrong 
Of  Father  Zeus  ?     More  fearful  this,  I  trow. 

HEPHAISTOS. 

Pitiless  ever,  full  of  daring,  thou. 
STRENGTH. 

For  nought  it  'vaileth  him  to  mourn,  nor  thee 
Fondly  to  toil  for  what  shall  never  be.  45 

HEPHAISTOS. 

0  much  detested  handicraft  of  mine ! 

STRENGTH. 

Wherefore  detested?  —  since,  in  simple  line, 
Thy  woes  have  nought  against  thine  art  to  cry. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Would  that  some  other  owned  that  art,  not  I ! 

STRENGTH. 

All  is  foredoomed  save  Heaven's  immortal  throne,         50 
For  none  are  free,  excepting  Zeus  alone. 
HEPHAISTOS. 

1  know  it,  and  have  nothing  to  gainsay. 

STRENGTH. 

Then  why  to  fetter  him  so  long  delay? 
Haste  !   lest  the  Sire  shall  see  thee  idly  stand. 
2* 


18  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
And  lo  !  the  fetters  ready  to  thine  hand !  55 

STRENGTH. 

Take  him,  and  round  his  wrists  the  forceful  chain 
Hard  rivet,  pin  it  to  the  rocks  amain. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
The  deed  is  done  !  there  is  no  loitering  here. 

STRENGTH. 

Strike,  —  strike  again! — strike  on!  cease  not  for  fear. 
For  strong  is  he  all  bonds  aside  to  cast.  60 

HEPHAISTOS. 

Behold  this  arm  inextricably  fast. 
STRENGTH. 

Then  link  this  other  firm.     So  let  him  know 
Himself  in  argument  great  Zeus  below. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Save  this  one  only,  none  can  blame  me  now. 

STRENGTH. 

Now  through  his  breast  drive  fiercely,  drive  the  edge     65 
Of  the  strong,  upright  adamantine  wedge ! 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Ay  me  !  Prometheus,  thy  woes  I  bemoan. 

STRENGTH. 

Still  dost  thou  pause,  for  the  foes  of  Zeus  to  groan  ? 
See  that  thyself  thou  hold  from  wailing  free ! 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Thou  look'st  upon  a  sight  most  sad  to  see.  70 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  19 

STRENGTH. 

I  see  him  suffering  his  deserts'  reward. 
Now  round  his  loins  bind  thou  the  cincture  hard. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Done  must  it  be  !  —  but  thou  command  no  more  ! 

STRENGTH. 

Command  I  will,  yea !  and  enforce  thee  sore  ! 
Go  down,  and  ring  his  legs  with  gyves  about.  75 

HEPHAISTOS. 
This  too  is  done,  before  thy  words  are  out. 

STRENGTH. 

Now  stoutly  clinch  the  circular  shackles  on. 
Severe  is  he  for  whom  the  work  is  done. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
Thy  savage  words  suit  well  thy  form  of  fear. 

STRENGTH. 

Shrink,  falter  thou!  blame  not  my  mood  severe,  80 

Nor  the  rough  harshness  of  my  daring  heart. 

HEPHAISTOS. 
His  limbs  are  fettered  fast.     Let  us  depart! 

STRENGTH. 

Insult  thou  there  !  —  and  steal  from  the  great  Gods 
Their  wealth,  to  waste  on  earth-worms !    Do  it,  and  see 
Which  of  thy  woes  these  mortals  shall  allay !  85 

Most  sure  the  Gods  mis-styled  thee  sage  and  wise, 
Prometheus,  who  dost  need  a  prophet's  toil 
To  teach  thee  how  to  shuffle  off  this  coil. 

They  all  <jo  off,  having  PROMETHEUS  chained  aloft  to  a  high  rock  in  the  centre 
of  the  stage. 


20  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

PROMETHEUS. 

0  heavenly  ether,  and  swift-pinioned  winds, 

And  founts  of  rivers,  and  of  ocean  waves  90 

Laughter  innumerous,  and  thou,  mother  Earth, 

Parent  of  all,  and  thine  all-seeing  orb, 

0  Helios,  I  invoke  !     Behold  !  behold ! 

What  wrongs,  myself  a  God,  from  Gods  I  bear. 

Sec  by  what  tortures  rent  asunder  95 

Myriads  of  ages  here  must  I  languish  ; 
So  base  a  chain 

Has  this  new  wielder  of  the  thunder 

Contrived,  to  glut  against  me  his  strong  hate. 

Woe !  woe  !  the  present  and  the  future  anguish  100 

Compel  my  soul  unwilling  to  complain ! 

When,  when,  or  by  what  fate, 
Shall  these  ages  of  agony  terminate  ? 
And  yet  what  say  I,  —  I,  whose  prescient  ken 
So  knows  the  future  that  nought  strange  or  new          ior> 
Can  come  to  grieve  me  ?     Best,  then,  to  endure 
Lightly  the  doom  that  still  endured  must  be, 
Knowing  that  fate  will  have  its  destined  way. 
Now  neither  to  conceal  nor  tell  my  woes 
Is  left  to  me  ;  by  destiny  severe  no 

Thus  yoked  —  ay  me  !  —  for  gifts  to  mortals  given. 
For  I  it  was  the  wondrous  reed  who  bore 
Filled  with  that  stolen  fount  of  fire  divine, 
Source  of  all  arts,  all  happiness,  to  men. 
And  thence  I  writhe,  on  these  harsh  summits  high,     ]J5 
In  penal  bonds,  between  the  earth  and  sky. 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  21 

But  ay !  ay  me  ! 

What  sound  is  this  ?  what  viewless  perfume  rare, 

Mortal,  divine,  or  mingled,  loads  the  air  ? 

Who  is  't  that  comes  to  this  remotest  rock  ?  120 

With  what  intent,  unless  my  woes  to  mock  ? 

Behold  me  fettered  here,  that  wretched  God, 

The  defyer  of  Zeus,  the  detested  of  all 

The  Immortals  who  throng  to  the  Thunderer's  hall, 
For  that  men  I  did  over-revere.  125 

Ay  me  !  what  a  rush  as  of  birds  is  on  high  ! 

What  a  whistling  of  pinions  is  loud  in  the  sky ! 
Nothing  comes  but  is  pregnant  with  fear. 

THE  CHORUS  of  Okeanides  enter  in  mid  air,  borne  in  a  winged  chariot, 
drawn  by  birds,  and  singing  while  they  hover  above  the  rock,  before  alighting. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  i. 

Nothing  fear.     For  this  our  band 

Friendly,  in  the  strife  130 

Of  rapid  pinions  vying, 
Hath  approached  this  land. 
Hardly  won  our  Sire's  consent, 
Light  airs  bore  us  swiftly  flying, 

For  the  iron-echoing  clang,  135 

Piercing  to  our  inmost  cave, 
Quickly  from  our  bosoms  drave 
Shamefaced  fear;  whereat  we  sprang, 
Sudden  with  unsandalled  feet, 
To  our  winged  chariot  fleet.  140 


22  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Alas  !  then,  and  0  welladay ! 
Ye  children  of  Tethys,  high  queen  of  the  sea, 
And  of  ocean,  whose  restless  and  weariless  spray 
Whirls  round  the  wide  nations,  see !  see  !  and  survey 
How  dread,  in  these  torturing  fetters  of  mine,  145 

Hard-bound  on  this  mountainous  summit,  to  pine. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  i. 

This,  Prometheus,  I  have  seen. 

Sadly  o'er  mine  eyes 

In  misty  volumes  tearful 

Pity  draws  her  screen,  150 

As  thy  godlike  form  I  see, 

Wasting  on  these  summits  fearful, 

Bound  in  links  of  iron  fate. 

Helmsmen  new,  I  ween,  to-day 

Hold  on  high  Olympos  sway;  155 

With  recent  laws,  and  ruthless  hate, 

Zeus  rules ;  that  the  great  of  yore 

Grand  shall  be  and  great  no  more, 

PROMETHEUS. 

Beneath  the  glad  earth  with  the  dead,  dark  and  cold, 
I  would  I  were  chained  in  the  bottomless  pit,  JGO 

That  alone  in  my  agonies  there  I  might  sit, 
Where  none  should  insult  me  of  Gods  or  of  men. 
But  now,  in  the  gorge  of  this  desolate  glen, 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  23 

I  waver  and  waste  in  the  soul-piercing  air, 

While  my  enemies  mock  my  despair.  165 

CRORUS. 
Strophe  n. 

What  god  is  so  hard  of  soul, 
To  revel  in  thy  moan  ? 
Who  can  his  tears  control 
Save  Zeus  alone? 

For  he,  revengeful  still,  170 

And  unappeased  of  will, 
Subdues  the  heavenly  race. 
Nor  shall  he  cease  his  hate, 
Until  his  heart  be  satiate, 

Unless  some  stronger  one  arise,  175 

And  win  by  force  his  royal  place, 
A  perilous  emprise. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Yet,  yet  shall  he  need  me,  though  now  he  may  grieve 
My  spirit  in  chains.     He  shall  need  me,  I  know, 
Though  he  lord  it  so  grandly,  to  teach  him  the  foe    iso 
Whose  craft  shall  despoil  him  of  sceptre  and  sway ! 
Yet  he  shall  not  persuade  me,  how  sweetly  so  e'er 
His  honeyed  persuasions  he  round  in  mine  ear. 
Nor  yet,  though  he  threaten  for  ever  and  aye, 
Will  I  quail  at  his  threats,  or  one  tittle  declare,         185 
Till  he  loosen  my  bonds,  and  all  gladly  repair 
The  wrongs  he  has  done  me  to-day ! 


24  PROMETHEUS  FETTERED. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  n. 

Daring  still  and  dauntless  thou, 
Who  to  thy  tortures  dread 

Vouchsafest  not  to  bow  190 

Thy  haughty  head  ! 
Wild  wax  thy  words  and  sore. 
And  to  my  heart's  deep  core 
Fear  thrills  me,  that  I  grieve 

And  now  almost  despair,  195 

Marking  thy  fortunes,  where, 
Woes  ended,  thou  shalt  land  secure  ; 
For  Kronos'  son  grants  no  reprieve, 
Whose  rage  doth  aye  endure. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Well  know  I  that  Zeus  is  relentless  as  fate,  200 

That  his  power  is  his  measure  of  justice  and  right ; 
Yet  well  I  believe  he  will  lower  his  state, 
When  he  finds  himself  battling  with  destiny's  might. 
Then,  then,  when  his  soul  hath  repented  its  hate, 
He  shall  sue  for  my  friendship,  my  pardon  shall  crave,  205 
For  so  only  his  throne  shall  he  save. 

CHORUS. 

Unburden  thou  thy  sorrows  all,  and  name 
The  unpardoned  sin  of  which  convict  the  Sire 
With  agonies  so  shameful  and  severe 
Torments  thee.     Tell,  if  naught  forbid  the  tale  !          210 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  25 

PROMETHEUS. 

To  utter  this  ye  ask  me  woe  it  is,  — 
Woe  not  to  utter  it,  —  grief  every  way. 
When  first  the  Gods  'gan  rage,  and  civil  strife 
Each  against  other  kindled,  —  from  his  seat 
These  resolute  eldest  Kronos  to  unthrone  215 

That  Zeus  in  his  stead  should  reign,  as  firm  the  rest 
That  o'er  the  Gods  Zeus  ne'er  sublime  should  sit,  — 
Well  though  I  counselled,  I  persuaded  not 
The  brood  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  Titans  strong. 
For  in  their  glorious  daring,  haught  and  high,  220 

They  mocked  my  schemes  .elaborate,  and  dreamed, 
By  force  alone,  right  easy  lords  to  be. 
But  me  my  mother,  Themis,  —  and  Earth  too, 
One  form  of  many  names,  —  not  once  alone 
Foreshowed  the  future,  how  it  should  fall  out,  225 

But  many  times  ;  that  not  by  the  strong  hand 
'T  was  given  our  masters  forcibly  to  quell, 
But  by  sure  craft.     Though  I  outspake  it  clear, 
With  eyes  self-blind,  this  deigned  they  not  to  see. 
Then  did  I  judge  it  wisest,  meet  ally,  230 

As  thus  their  counsels  stood,  my  parent  sage 
Electing,  to  assist  with  willing  aid 
Zeus,  willing  too.     I  it  was,  even  I, 
Who  so  did  school  him,  that  the  black  abysm 
Of  deepest  Tartaros,  with  his  puissant  crew,  235 

Closed  over  Kronos  old.     These  be  the  debts 
Which  he  doth  owe  me,  —  these  he  doth  repay, 


26  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

The  tyrant  of  the  Gods,  with  wrong  for  right, 

Since  tyranny  hath  still  this  rank  disease, 

That  friends  it  trusts  not.     Therefore  what  ye  ask,     240 

The  sin  for  which  he  wrings  me,  hear !  —  I  tell. 

That  instant  when  he  filled  in  haughty  pride 

His  father's  throne,  to  all  the  Gods  he  gave 

To  each  his  several  power,  to  each  his  sway 

Assigned.     But  for  that  wretched  race  of  men  345 

No  word  he  held, -but  to  abolish  all, 

For  ever,  and  a  different  seed  to  sow. 

And  none  but  I  opposed  it,  —  none  but  I, 

Bold  in  the  right.     I  rescued  them,  I  say, 

That  Hades  held  them  not  that  very  day.  250 

For  this  I  writhe,  for  this,  in  pangs,  ay  me ! 

Fearful  to  bear,  and  piteous  to  behold ! 

Mortals  who  pitied  erst,  myself  I  find 

No  pity  now,  in  this  abhorred  plight 

Chained  ruthlessly,  to  Zeus  a  shameful  sight.  255 

CHORUS. 

Steel-minded  he,  and  formed  of  hardest  flint, 
Who,  0  Prometheus,  sympathizes  not 
With  thee.     Thy  toils  I  wished  not  to  behold, 
And  now,  beholding,  sorrow  to  my  soul. 

PROMETHEUS. 
Sad  sight  indeed  am  I  for  friends  to  see.  SCO 

CHORUS. 
Didst  do  no  more  than  thou  hast  told  to  me? 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  27 

PROMETHEUS. 
I  spared  mankind  the  foresight  of  their  fate. 

CHORUS. 
What  cure  contriving  for  their  desperate  state  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Blind  hopes  I  planted  in  their  hearts  to  bloom. 

CHORUS. 
A  mighty  antidote  to  such  a  doom.  265 

PROMETHEUS. 
Nay,  more !  I  gave  them  fire's  immortal  ray. 

CHORUS. 
Have  they  bright  fire,  those  creatures  of  a  day  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
They  have ;  that  thence  full  many  an  art  shall  flow. 

CHORUS. 

And  is  't  for  this  that  Zeus  torments  thee  so, 
Relaxing  nought  of  thine  unearthly  woe  ?  270 

And  have  thy  tortures  no  allotted  time  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
None,  save  the  motion  of  his  will  sublime. 

CHORUS. 

What  wilt  thou  do  ?  —  what  hope  ?    Nay  !  seest  thou  not 
That  thou  hast  sinned  ?  —  how  sinned  it  were  for  me 
No  pleasure  to  relate,  and  pain  for  thee.  275 

Pass  that,  and  seek  some  change  of  this  thy  lot. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Easy  it  is  for  him  whose  foot  is  free 
From  sorrow's  net  to  counsel  and  to  blame 


28  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

The  wretched.     But,  for  me,  I  knew  the  whole, 

And  knowing  sinned,  —  ay,  knowing  !  nor  will  now     280 

Deny  it.     Saving  men,  myself  I  lost ; 

Yet  thought  not  then  that  by  such  toils  as  these 

I  should  be  wasted,  on  precipitous  rocks, 

Here  in  this  desolate  and  lonely  glen. 

Yet  mourn  not  ye  this  present  weight  of  woe,  285 

But,  here  alighting,  future  fates  to  learn 

Apply  ye,  so  the  rest  to  comprehend. 

Obey,  obey  me,  — wisely  sympathize 

With  who  now  grieves.     Woe  sits  not  still,  I  say, 

But  flits  from  each  to  other,  day  by  day  !  290 

CHORUS. 

You  have  said,  0  Prometheus,  and  willing  are  we 
To  spring  from  our  chariot  with  fleet  foot  and  free, 
To  quit  the  pure  ether,  through  which  we  have  driven 
Our  sea-birds,  the  couriers  of  ocean  and  heaven, 
Our  delicate  feet  on  these  rude  rocks  to  press,  295 

And  to  learn  all  thy  tale  of  distress. 

Enter  to  the  above  OKEANOS,  riding  on  a  winged  sea-horse. 

OKEANOS. 

Prometheus,  I  come  to  the  term  of  my  road, 
Speeding  toward  thee  my  wearisome  way, 
Sure-steering  this  swift-winged  steed  of  the  sea, 
Unbitted,  unbridled,  to  where  I  would  be.  300 

But,  believe  me,  thy  sorrows  I  sorrow  to  know, 
E'en  as  kindred  compels  me  ;  but,  kinsman  or  no, 
There  is  no  one  on  whom  I  would  lavish,  I  trow, 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  29 

A  happier  fortune  than  thou. 

And  this  thou  mayst  count  as  truth,  for  my  tongue    305 

Knows  not  to  flatter.     So  up  !  and  show 

How  I  may  aid  thee,  by  word  or  deed, 

For  ne'er  shalt  say  thou  hast  a  friend 

Than  Okeanos,  through  weal  and  woe, 

Trustier  to  the  end.  310 

PROMETHEUS, 

Hold !  what  is  this  ?     Hast  thou  come,  too, 
My  woes  to  measure  ?     How  hast  thou  endured 
Thy  flood  to  leave  synonymous,  and  caves 
Rock-roofed,  self-hollowed,  for  this  lonely  land, 
Mother  of  iron  ?     Is  it  my  wrongs  to  see  315 

That  called  thee  thence,  and  with  my  griefs  to  grieve  ? 
Then  see  a  marvel! — me,  the  friend  of  Zeus, 
Who  built  for  him  his  tyranny  so  sure, 
What  anguish  at  his  hands  I  now  endure. 

OKEANOS. 

I  see,  Prometheus  ;  and  would  counsel  thee,  320 

Although  I  know  thee  crafty,  for  the  best. 
Know  thou  thyself,  and  study  to  put  on 
New  manners,  —  for  the  King  of  the  Gods  is  new. 
But  if  such  keen  and  bitter-pointed  words 
Thou  shootest,  though  so  far  aloof  he  sit,  325 

Zeus  yet  shall  hear  thee,  that  the  ills  thou  hast 
Will  but  as  child's  play  seem  to  what  shall  be. 
Come,  then,  unhappy,  let  thy  rage  die  out, 
And  seek  remission  of  thy  woes,  nor  deem 

3* 


30  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

My  counsels  out  of  fashion.     For  these  things  330 

Which  thou  endurest  are  the  sure  reward, 

Prometheus,  of  an  over-vaunting  tongue. 

And  nothing  humble  art  thou,  nor  by  thine  ills 

Subdued,  but  to  thy  present  sufferings 

Suffering  wouldst  rather  add.     Of  me,  then,  learn,      335 

i  Kick  not  against  the  spur,'  for  rude  is  he 

Who  rides,  sole  ruler  whom  no  force  can  shake. 

And  now  I  hie  me  hence,  if  it  so  may  be, 

To  win  for  thee  remission  and  release  • 

From  penance  ;  but  be  silent  thou,  nor  rail,  340 

Mad-mouthed.     For  know'st  thou  not,  so  wise  who  art, 

That  idle  tongues  provoke  the  sorest  smart  ? 
PROMETHEUS. 

Almost  I  envy  thee  who  hast  no  ill, 

Though  side  by  side  with  me  didst  dare  and  do. 

Let  these  things  be,  nor  take  thou  heed  of  them.        345 
Him  wilt  thou  not  persuade,  who  easy  is  not 
Whom  to  persuade ;  but  well  thyself  mayest  rue 
The  vain  endeavour. 

OKEANOS. 
Ever  to  advise 

Others  wert  abler  than  thyself  to  rule. 
By  facts,  not  words,  judge  I.     Then  seek  not  thou     350 
To  turn  me  from  my  purpose.     Sure  I  am 
That  Zeus  this  boon  will  grant  me  —  thy  release. 

PROMETHEUS. 
This  I  approve  in  thee,  and  ever  shall. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  31 

For  willingness  thou  nothing  lackest.     Yet 

Toil  not  for  me,  for  vainly  shalt  thou  toil,  355 

Nothing  assisting  me,  if  toil  thou  wilt. 

Hold  silence,  therefore,  and,  from  peril  aloof, 

Risk  nothing ;  for  although  myself  a  wretch, 

Not  therefore  would  I  see  all  others  so. 

For,  of  a  truth,  my  brother's  weariful  fate  360 

Afflicts  me ;  Atlas',  who  stands  far  i'  the  west, 

And  long  hath  stood,  on  his  brawny  shoulders  broad 

Propping  the  earthfast  pillar  of  the  skies, 

Burden  prodigious.     Nor  do  I  pity  not, 

Whom  I  saw  once,  the  hostile  giant  grim,  365 

The  earthborn  inmate  of  Kilikian  caves, 

The  hundred-headed,  violently  quelled, 

Impetuous  Typhon.     Against  all  the  Gods 

He  stood  defiant,  from  his  terrible  jaws 

Hissing  red  slaughter,  flashing  from  his  eyes  370 

The  lurid  glare  of  lightning,  e'en  as  who 

The  realm  of  Zeus  by  force  ^hould  overthrow. 

But  him  erewhile  the  sleepless  shaft  of  God, 

The  headlong  thunderbolt  outbreathing  flame, 

Overtook,  and  smote  him  sheer  from  his  loud  vaunts  375 

Blasphemous.     For,  to  his  right  mind  scourged  back, 

His  might  was  thunderstruck  and  scorched  to  dust. 

And  now,  a  worthless  and  dishonored  trunk, 

Outstretched  hard  by  the  billowy  strait  he  lies, 

Crushed  underneath  the  roots  of  Aitna  old,  380 

Where,  sitting  on  the  loftiest  peaks  sublime, 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

Hephaistos  plies  his  stithy;  whence  burst  out 

Rivers  of  fire  sometime,  with  savage  jaws 

Devouring  sweet  Sikelia's  lilied  lawns. 

With  such  fell  vengeance  Typhon  still  o'erboils,  385 

And  desolating  storms  of  flame-breathed  hate 

Insatiate,  although  thunderstruck  of  Zeus. 

But  thou  nor  ignorant  art,  nor  needest  me 

To  teach  thee.     Save  thyself  as  best  thou  canst ; 

And  I  my  present  lot  will  bravely  bear  390 

Until  the  soul  of  Zeus  from  rage  shall  rest. 

OKEANOS. 

Say,  0  Prometheus,  hast  thou  never  heard 
The  cure  of  the  sick  heart,  the  gentle  word  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 

Ay !     If  the  heart  be  softly  soothed  to  the  right, 
Not  if  it  strive,  and  be  subdued  by  might.  395 

OKEANOS. 

But  in  sage  caution  and  endurance  stern 
Seest  thou  so  shameful  aught  ?     This  would  I  learn. 

PROMETHEUS. 
I  see  superfluous  labor,  folly  vain. 

OKEANOS. 

Let  me,  then,  still  of  this  disease  complain ; 
Since  best  it  is  to  be  wise,  and  not  seem  sou  400 

PROMETHEUS. 
This  which  thou  praisest  is  my  sin,  I  know. 

OKEANOS. 
Thy  speech  directly  speeds  me  home  again. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  33 

PROMETHEUS. 
Ay!  before  wrath  o'ertake  thee  from  my  pain. 

OKEANOS. 
What  ?  wrath  from  him  who  rules  in  new-got  state  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Of  him  beware,  lest  his  soul  wake  to  hate.  405 

OKEANOS. 
Thy  fate  should  teach  me  this,  though  I  were  blind. 

PROMETHEUS. 
Hence,  then!  away!  preserve  thy  present  mind. 

OKEANOS. 

You  speak  to  who  not  needs  it,  but  departs ; 
For  my  winged  courser  beats  the  intrenchant  air 
With  his  swift-gliding  pinion.     Glad  shall  he  be  410 

In  his  own  stall  to  bend  his  weary  knee. 
CHORUS. 
Strophe  i. 

Thy  piteous  fortunes  I  deplore, 
Prometheus  ;  and  mine  eyes  outpour 
Torrents  of  tears, 

Which,  down  my  pale  cheeks  stealing,  415 

Reveal  the  sympathies  of  tenderest  feeling. 
For  Zeus  by  self-made  edicts  new 
Inflicts  this  grievous  fate, 
Showing  his  temper  stern  and  cruel 
To  those  who  were  so  great,  420 

The  Gods  of  yore. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

Antislrophe  I. 

And  now,  the  universe  throughout, 
Sullen  and  deep  the  wail  breaks  out, 
That  empire  old 

Majestical  bemoaning  405 

And  moderate,  with  heavy  sound  of  groaning, 
Which  thou  and  thine  did  sway. 
All  those,  i'  the  Asian  plain 
Who  sojourn,  weep  thy  sorrows  woful, 
Though  they  be  mortal  men,  430 

And  till  the  ground; 

Strophe  n. 

All  they  who  dwell  on  Kolchian  strand, 
Virgins,  who  scorn  to  shake 
In  the  battle's  hurly  dread  ; 

And  the  Scythian  hordes  who  tread  435 

The  farthest  pastured  land, 
Hard  by  the  brink  of  that  Maiotic  lake ; 

Antistrophe  n. 

And  fierce  Arabia's  martial  flower, 

And  they  who  to  the  hold 

Perched  on  the  crags  sublime  440 

Of  Kaukasos  upclimb, 

A  strange  and  hostile  power, 

Bristled  with  lances  keen,  savage,  and  bold. 

Epode. 

One  other  have  I  seen  before, 
One  other  of  the  Titans  only,  445 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  35 

Atlas,  in  adamantine  chains, 

Tortured  with  deathless  pains  ; 

Who,  friendless  in  the  west  and  lonely, 

The  weight  o'er  whelming  of  the  starry  pole 

Groaning  on  his  shoulder  bears.  450 

In  sympathy  the  sea-wave  groans, 

Groans  the  abyss,  and  under  ground 

Black  Hades  roars  with  hollow  sound ; 

While  sacred  rivers,  murmuring  as  they  flow 

From  their  pure  founts,  bewail  the  giant's  woe.  455 

PROMETHEUS. 

Not  delicate,  nor  haughty  in  self-pride, 
Believe  that  I  hold  silent.     In  deep  thought 
Rather  eat  I  mine  heart,  myself  who  see 
Thus  in  the  toils ;  and  yet  who  else  but  I 
Gave  these  new  Gods  the  Godhead  which  they  hold?  460 
But  this  I  speak  not  of.     For  this  ye  know 
Already.     But  my  sinnings  in  behalf  of 'men 
Now  listen,  —  how  I  made  them,  from  being  dumb 
And  senseless,  mindful  and  instinct  with  soul. 
For  I  will  tell  ye,  blaming  men  in  nought,  465 

But  claiming  favor  for  the  good  I  gave, 
Who,  though  they  saw  before,  yet  saw  in  vain, 
And,  hearing,  did  hear  nothing,  but,  like  shapes 
Of  empty  dreams,  all  things  confused  and  mixed 
At  random,  heedlessly ;  nor  knew  to  build  470 

Houses  of  brick,  sun-facing,  nor  of  wood, 
But,  groping  under  ground,  like  wind-borne  ants, 


36  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

In  caverns  dwelt  unvisited  of  clay. 

Nor  was  it  given  to  them  the  winter's  cold 

From  flowery  spring-time  or  the  fruitful  fall  475 

How  surely  to  distinguish.     Without  thought 

All  that  they  did  was  done,  until  I  showed 

The  risings  of  the  stars,  and  settings  too, 

Most  difficult  to  judge.     Of  wisest  gifts 

The  wisest,  numbers  I  bestowed  on  them ;  480 

And  harmony  of  speech,  and,  powerful  all, 

The  mother  of  the  Muses,  memory. 

I  first  it  was  who,  subject  to  the  yoke, 

Cattle  compelled  to  draw,  and  to  the  car 

Harnessed  steeds  rein-obeying,  the  proud  gems  485 

Of  wealthiest  state,  vicegerents  to  become 

Of  toil  for  mortals,  and  their  bodies  to  spare. 

Nor  any  other  framed  than  I  alone 

The  canvas-pinioned  chariots  of  the  sea, 

The  strength  of  sailors.     Yet  who  found  all  these       490 

For  mortals  find  myself  no  scheme  whereby 

This  present  anguish  I  may  hope  to  fly. 

CHORUS. 

Base  penalty  indeed  hast  undergone, 
Who  by  a  mind  diseased  hast  fallen.     Alack! 
A  helpless  leech,  who,  smitten  by  despair,  495 

In  sickness  hast  no  drug  thyself  to  cure. 

PROMETHEUS. 

When  thou  hast  heard  the  whole,  wilt  wonder  more, 
What  arts  I  did  invent,  and  sage  designs 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  37 

Benevolent.     The  greatest  this.     If  one 

Fell  ill,  no  remedy  there  was  of  draught,  500 

Or  chrism,  or  edible.     Men  wore  away, 

For  very  lack  of  medicines  ;  until  I 

Taught  them  of  healing  drugs  the  mixture  mild, 

By  which  of  all  disease  is  certain  cure. 

Of  divination,  too,  modes  more  than  one  505 

I  ordered,  and  distinction  made,  the  first, 

Between  true  visions  and  mere  dreams  of  night ; 

Nor  taught  them  not  the  omens,  hard  to  teach, 

From  voices  drawn ;  and  wayside  symbols  true 

Of  fierce  crook-taloned  birds,  which  way  they  fly,        510 

To  the  right  hand  or  leftward,  and  the  food 

Appropriate  of  each ;  and  how  they  dwell, 

Hostile,  or  friendly  in  companionship. 

Of  entrails,  too,  the  lustre,  and  the  tints 

Which  show  the  Gods  well  pleased,  I  gave  to  know,  515 

The  gall,  and  varied  liver's  healthful  hue. 

The  thighs  enveloped  in  rich  cauls  of  fat 

With  fire  consuming,  and  the  mighty  loin, 

I  guided  mortals  on  the  difficult  road 

Haruspical;  and  to  the  flaming  signs,  520 

Which  erst  illegible  were,  made  ope  their  eyes 

That  they  should  read  them  clear.     Such  things  are  so. 

But  wondrous  treasures  subterranean,  hid 

In  vasty  caves,  brass,  steel,  silver,  and  gold, 

Who,  if  not  I,  may  boast  to  have  revealed  ?  525 

No  one,  I  ween,  unless  him  lists  to  lie. 


38  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

In  one  short  word,  at  once  to  sum  the  whole, 
All  arts  that  mortals  have  they  have  from  me. 

CHORUS. 

Now,  therefore,  mortals  seek  not  to  assist 
Unduly,  taking  for  thyself  no  heed,  530 

Who  suiferest  so  sore.     Good  hopes  have  I 
That,  from  these  cruel  chains  released  and  free, 
Thee  nought  to  Zeus  inferior  shall  I  see. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Not  this  way  is  the  fulness  of  my  doom 
Decreed  to  be  accomplished.     Nor,  till  bent  535 

By  weary  woes  unnumbered,  shall  I  'scape 
This  chain.     For  art  is  weaker  far  than  fate. 

CHORUS. 
Who  sits  at  the  helm  to  rule  how  fate  shall  be  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
The  three-formed  Fates  and  watchful  Furies  three. 

CHORUS. 
And  Zeus  himself  less  puissant  is  than  these  ?  540 

PROMETHEUS. 
At  least  he  may  not  shun  their  stern  decrees. 

CHORUS. 
What  is  decreed  to  Zeus  but  aye  to  reign  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
This  though  thou  learn  not,  ask  it  not  again. 

CHORUS. 
Some  solemn  secret  it  is,  thou  wouldst  conceal. 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  39 

PROMETHEUS. 

Some  other  topic  choose.     This  to  reveal  545 

Time  is  not  yet,  but  rather  close  to  hide, 
As  hide  I  may;  for,  an  I  keep  it  so, 
These  chains  I  shall  escape,  and  eke  this  woe. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  i. 

May  he,  who  all  things  holds  in  sway, 
Great  Zeus,  may  he  550 

Ne'er  set  my  judgment  and  his  will  at  twain ! 
Nor  let  me  e'er  the  Gods  offend, 
All  at  their  holy  feasts  of  oxen  slain, 
Hard  by  old  Ocean's  quenchless  main. 
Nor  sinful  be  my  words,  nor  over  free.  555 

But  may  this  faith  of  mine  endure  to  the  end, 
Nor  ever  pass  away. 

Antistrophe  i. 

Sweet,  sweet  it  is  long  life  to  cheer 
With  hopes  serenely  bold, 

Lapping  the  soul  in  pleasure's  brightest  ray.  560 

But,  thee  while  in  this  fearful  glen 
Writhing  in  hapless  anguish  I  survey, 
Shudders  my  spirit  with  dismay. 
For  thou,  in  self-opinion's  sternest  mould 
Defying  Zeus,  this  wretched  race  of  men  565 

Didst  all  too  much  revere. 

Strophe  n. 
Come  then,  my  friend,  since  woe  thy  love  did  wreak, 


40  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

Say  !  what  relief  wilt  seek  ? 
What  succour  can  from  mortals  come  ? 
0,  see  you  not  how  weak,  r)70 

How  dream-like,  and  how  dumb, 
In  fitful  blindness  staggering  to  and  fro, 
Fettered  the  frail  race  go  ? 
No  mortal  wisdom  shall  o'erstep  the  line, 
That  herns  them  in,  of  harmony  divine.  575 

Antistruphe  n. 

This  did  I  learn,  thine  own  sad  fortune  viewing, 

Prometheus,  and  now  ruing 

The  fateful  change  that  hath  come  o'er  us, 

Since  we,  in  mirth  pursuing 

Thy  steps,  with  all  our  chorus  5^0 

From  bridal  bath  to  bridal  bed  did  sins, 

O' 

And  gladly  thou  didst  bring 

Hesione,  our  father's  daughter  fair, 

By  gifts  thy  bride  to  be,  thy  couch  to  share. 

Enter,  to  the  above,  lo,  the  daughter  of  Inachos,  having  the  form  and  face  of  a 
beautiful  virgin,  but  horned  like  a  heifer. 

lo. 

Monostrophe. 

What  land  is  this?  what  race  arc  ye  ?  what  man  do  I  behold 
Here  in  rocky  fetters  586 

Shivering  to  the  winter  cold? 
Tell  me  what  the  crime  he  rues. 
Tell  me  whither  upon  earth 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  41 

I  have  wandered,  —  wretched  me  !  590 

0,  again !  again,  alas  ! 

I  feel  it  pierce,  with  fatal  smart,  the  gad-fly's  fiery  lance ! 

I  see  the  giant  herdsman's  ghost ! 

Hide  it !  hide  it,  mother  earth ! 

Wild  I  shudder,  as  I  see  595 

That  unearthly  guard  advance, 

Glaring  on  me  evermore, 

With  ten  thousand  cunning  eyes. 

The  grave  doth  not  conceal  him  dead,  from  hell  I  see  him 

rise, 
To  chase  me  faint  and  frantical  along  the  ocean  shore.  600 

Strophe. 

Aye  shrills  the  wax-bound  reed  its  tremulous  note, 
Outpouring  strains,  that  float  • 
Loaded  with  slumberous  influence  on  the  air. 
Where,  0  ye  gods,  ah!  where 

Rest  shall  I  find,  these  weary  wanderings  o'er?  605 

Wherefore,  great  Kronos'  son, 
Wherefore  hast  yoked  me  to  these  tortures  sore, 
What  evil  having  done  ? 
Why  by  the  gad-fly's  terror  dread 

Distract  this  fearful,  frenzied  head  ?  610 

0,  burn  me  with  fire,  or  entomb  me  in  earth, 
Or  give  me  a  prey  to  the  monsters  of  ocean  ; 
But  spurn  not,  0  King, 
The  prayer  of  my  humble  devotion ! 
For  sadly  my  far-goaded  wanderings  have  wasted         615 

4* 


42  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

My  spirit,  nor  hope  have  I  tasted 
To  escape  from  this  terrible  doom. 

CHORUS. 
Hearest  thou  the  horned  virgin's  pitiful  cry? 

PROMETHEUS. 

How  should  I  fail  the  gadfly-haunted  girl 
Of'lnachos  to  hear,  who  fires  the  heart  620 

Of  Zeus  with  passion  ?  —  hence  by  Here's  hate 
Doomed  to  the  horrors  of  this  violent  fate. 

lo. 

Antistrophe. 

Whence  hast  thou  learned  my  father's  name  to  trace  ? 

To  me,  of  the  human  race 

Most  wretched,  speak,  I  pray  thee !  tell  me  straight   625 

Who  art  thou,  that  my  fate 

Hast  learned,  that  dost  declare  so  plain, 

With  utterance  so  true, 

The  heaven-sent  plague,  which  tortures  me  amain, 

Piercing  me  through  and  through  630 

With  shafts  that  waste  my  frantic  soul, 

And  goad  me  forth  beyond  control? 

I  am  driven,  alas  !  by  the  rancorous  ire 

Of  Here,  who  hunts  me  with  pitiless  hate. 

0,  hapless  are  they  who  bemoan  635 

Such  sorrows  !     But  tell  me  my  fate,  — 

What  more  shall  I  suffer,  what  hope  may  I  cherish  ? 

0,  tell  me,  and  let  me  not  perish, 

For  my  plague  if  thou  knowest  a  cure. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  43 

Speak !  speak !  and  name  the  griefs  I  must  endure.    640 

PROMETHEUS. 

All  will  I  tell  thee  clear,  all  thou  wouldst  seek, 
Not  weaving  riddles,  but  in  plain,  blunt  speech ; 
Since  just  it  is  among  friends  the  mouth  to  ope  ; 
Thou  seest  Prometheus,  giver  of  fire  to  men. 

lo. 

Donor  to  mortals  of  this  boundless  bliss,  645 

0  sad  Prometheus,  sufferest  thou  for  this  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
But  now  I  cease  my  sufferings  to  bemoan. 

lo. 
Wilt  thou  not  grant  me,  then,  this  boon  alone  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Ask  what  you  will,  and  all  you  ask  obtain. 

lo. 
Say  then,  —  who  bound  thee  to  this  rock  of  pain  ?      650 

PROMETHEUS. 
Hephaistos'  hand  performed  what  Zeus  decreed. 

lo. 
Of  what  offence  is  this  the  merciless  meed  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Thus  much  to  have  revealed  I  rest  content. 

lo. 

0,  tell  me  yet  the  term  that  must  be  spent 
In  these  wild  wanderings  ;  when  shall  cease  my  woe  ?  655 

PROMETHEUS. 
Not  to  know  this  were  better  than  to  know. 


44  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

lo. 
Hide  not,  I  pray,  the  woes  which  I  must  bear. 

PROMETHEUS. 
I  grudge  not  truly  these  things  to  declare. 

lo. 
Then  why  delay  aloud  to  speak  the  whole. 

PROMETHEUS. 
I  grudge  it  not,  —  but  fear  to  shake  thy  soul.  660 

lo. 
Fear  not  for  me  ;  sweet  is  the  boon  I  crave. 

PROMETHEUS. 
Hear,  then,  —  for  speak  I  must,  to  one  so  brave. 

CHORUS. 

Hold  yet,  that  we  this  pleasure  too  may  share. 
First  let  us  learn  the  virgin's  plague,  herself 
Revealing  the  disasters  of  her  fate.  665 

And  then  do  thou  her  future  toils  relate. 

PROMETHEUS. 

lo,  these  nymphs  to  gratify  be  thine, 
E'en  were  they  not  the  sisters  of  thy  sire ; 
Since  even  to  weep,  and  wail  away  thy  woe, 
Hath  something  sweet,  whose  every  tearful  cry  670 

Draws  kind  response  from  kindly  hearer's  eye. 

lo. 

I  know  not  why  your  faith  I  should  distrust, 
And  therefore  in  plain  speech  what  ye  require 
That  shall  ye  hear,  —  sore  though  it  be  to  tell 
This  heaven-sent  tempest,  and  this  change  of  form,      675 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  45 

How  they  befell  most  wretched  me.     For  aye 

Strange  visions,  hovering  round  my  virgin  bed 

With  words  soft  sounding  through  the  stilly  night, 

Did  tempt  me,  crying,  —  "0  most  fortunate  girl, 

Why  pine  so  long  a  maid,  to  whom  is  given  680 

To  wed  with  the  highest,  —  by  whose  amorous  shafts 

Zeus  is  inflamed,  fondly  with  thee  to  link 

Sweet  loveknots.     Spurn  no  longer  thou  the  bed 

Of  Zeus,  fair  daughter ;  but  to  Lerne's  mead 

Deep-waving,  and  thy  sire's  ox-pastures  green,  635 

Go  forth,  and  cure  the  enamoured  monarch's  pain !  " 

Thus  night  by  night  with  strangest  forms  of  sleep 

Still  haunted,  to  my  sire,  in  fear,  at  length 

My  dread  night-coming  dreams  I  did  reveal. 

Then  he  to  Pytho  and  Dodone  sent  690 

Wisest  consulters,  at  the  shrines  to  learn 

How,  or  by  word  or  deed,  the  powers  divine 

He  should  propitiate.     Back  they  came  again, 

Bearing  responses  couched  in  many  tongues, 

Dark,  dubious,  enigmatically  told.  695 

But  in  the  end  a  message  clear  as  day 

Came  unto  Inachos,  distinct  and  loud, 

Charging  him  drive  me  from  his  roof,  his  realm, 

An  outcast  wanderer  to  earth's  utmost  end  ; 

For  let  him  doubt,  Heaven's  thunderous  bolt  should  fall,  700 

Annihilating  realm,  and  race,  and  all! 

By  such  responses  of  the  Loxian  God 

Compelled,  he  drove,  he  locked  me  from  his  door, 


46  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

Unwilling  both.     But  him  the  curb  of  Zeus 

Inevitable  drave  that  deed  to  do.  705 

My  form  was  straight  deformed,  my  mind  distraught, 

And  horned,  as  you  see  me,  was  I  driven, 

With  frantic  bounds,  before  the  shrilling  hum 

Of  the  swift  breese,  to  sweet  Kenchreia's  stream, 

And  hills  nigh  Lerne.     But  the  earth-born  bulk  710 

Of  the  fierce  herdsman  Argos  followed  on, 

Tracking  my  foot  with  all  his  thousand  eyes. 

Him  suddenly  a  doom  all  unforeseen 

Deprived  of  life.     I,  tortured  by  Heaven's  scourge, 

The  goading  fly,  from  land  to  land  roam  on.  715 

The  past  is  told.     If  aught  you  have  to  tell 

Of  future  toils,  I  pray  you  tell  it ;  but,  0  ! 

In  pity  soothe  not  with  false  words  my  woe  ! 

For  deepest  shames  from  feigned  speeches  flow. 

CHORUS. 

Alas  !  alas !  720 

Hold !  and  again  alas ! 
For  ne'er  I  thought  —  0,  ne'er  before  !  — 
Should  words  so  strange  and  full  of  fear 
Come  to  mine  ear  ; 

Nor  woes,  nor  plagues,  nor  terrors  so  untold,  725 

And  so  intolerably  great, 
Should  pierce  with  two-edged  anguish  cold 
My  spirit  to  the  core. 
Alas  !  0  Fate !  0  Fate ! 
I  shudder  as  I  see  sad  lo's  state.  730 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  47 

PROMETHEUS. 

Too  soon  thou  groanest,  —  art  of  fear  too  full ; 
Wait  till  thou  hearest  all,  and  not  a  part. 

CHORUS. 

Speak,  tell  it  out.     'T  is  sweet  for  those  who  mourn 
To  learn  the  whole  of  that  which  must  be  borne. 

PROMETHEUS. 

The  former  favor,  it  seems,  ye  won  from  me  735 

Too  lightly ;  for  at  first  you  would  be  taught, 
By  her  own  tongue,  this  virgin's  sorrow  dread. 
Hear  now  the  rest,  —  what  pangs  't  is  yet  her  doom 
To  bear  from  Here  ;  and  give  ear,  thou  child 
Of  Inachos,  and  take  my  words  to  heart;  740 

So  shalt  thou  know  thy  wandering  steps  to  guide. 
First  henceward  to  the  rising  of  the  sun 
Must  turn  thy  face,  and  tread  the  uncultured  vales, 
And  reach  the  Scythian  Nomades,  who  dwell 
In  basket-woven  houses,  chariot-wheeled,  745 

With  shafts  far-darting  weaponed.     These  avoid, 
And  skirting  aye  the  sea-beat  rocks,  that  roar 
To  the  white  surge,  pass  onward.     On  thy  left 
Lie  the  Chalybians,  iron-workers  wise  ; 
Of  whom  beware,  for  fierce  of  mood  are  they,  750 

To  guests  inhospitable,  bloody,  and  strange. 
Then  shalt  thou  reach  that  torrent,  rightly  named 
The  Insolent;  which  cross  not,  for  't  is  wild 
And  fordless,  till  to  Kaukasos  thou  come, 
Tallest  of  mountains,  where  from  topmost  peaks  755 


48  PROMETHEUS    FETTERED. 

Leaps  the  loud  river.     Mounting  then  the  crags, 

Lofty  star-neighbours,  take  the  southern  way. 

There  shalt  thou  meet  the  Amazonian  host, 

Man-haters,  who  of  yore  the  hold  did  found 

Of  Themiskyra  by  Thermodon's  stream,  760 

Where  upon  Salmydesia's  foamy  tusk 

The  white  surf  thunders,  —  stepmother  to  ships, 

Stern  host  to  sailors.    These  thy  guides  shall  be, 

Till  the  Kimmerian  isthmus  be  attained, 

Hard  by  the  narrow  gates  of  that  dread  pool,  765 

Which  leaving,  swim  the  deep  Maiotic  gulf 

Stout-hearted.     There  for  aye  shall  live  the  tale 

Of  thy  strange  feat,  that  men  shall  name  it  still 

The  Bosphorus,  where  swam  the  heifer  o'er. 

Then,  quitting  old  Europa's  plain,  shalt  reach  770 

The  Asian  continent.     Now  deem  ye  not 

The  tyrant  of  the  Gods  to  all  alike 

Unjust  and  violent,  —  that  he,  a  God, 

For  very  lust  of  this  fair  mortal, « drive 

Her  forth  poor  wanderer?     Harsh  is  he,  poor  maid,   775 

Who  woos  thy  bed ;  for  all  thou  yet  dost  know 

Is  scarce  a  prelude  to  thy  coming  woe. 

lo. 

Alas  !  ay  me !  alas,  and  wellaway  ! 
PROMETHEUS. 

Again  thou  groanest  loud.     What  then  wilt  say 
Learning  the  ills  that  yet  must  fall  on  thee  ?  780 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  49 

CHORUS. 
Didst  say  that  more  of  grief  to  her  can  be  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Of  fateful  grief  a  wild  and  wintry  sea. 

lo. 

Why  longer  live  ?     Why  not  in  eager  haste 
Plunge  headlong  from,  this  harsh  and  horrid  rock, 
That,  dashed  to  atoms  on  the  plain  below,  785 

My  woes  may  leave  me  ?     Better  dead  to  lie, 
Than  all  my  days  to  live,  and  wish  to  die. 

PROMETHEUS. 

How  couldst  thou  bear  my  sufferings  to  endure, 
For  whom  to  die  is  not,  nor  e'er  shall  be, 
Permitted  ?     Death  would  be  release  from  pain.  790 

But  no  surcease  is  destined  to  my  thrall, 
Till  from  his  tyrannous  throne  this  Zeus  shall  fall. 

lo. 
Shall  Zeus  then  fall  ?     Can  this  predestined  be  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Thou  wouldst  rejoice,  I  trow,  such  doom  to  see. 

lo. 
How  not  rejoice,  when  he  afflicts  me  so  ?  795 

PROMETHEUS. 
That  this  shall  be,  sufficeth  thee  to  know. 

lo. 
Who  from  his  grasp  the  sceptre  shall  distrain  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
He  from  himself,  by  counsels  light  and  vain. 


50  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

lo. 
How?  how? — if  nought  forbid  thee  to  relate. 

PROMETHEUS. 
Wedding  a  bride,  through  whom  must  bow  his  state.  800 

lo. 
Divine  or  mortal  ?  —  speak,  if  speak  thou  may. 

PKOMETHEUS. 
Why  ask  ?     For  this  I  may  not,  will  not  say. 

lo. 
Is  't  by  his  wife  that  he  shall  lose  his  throne  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Bearing  a  son,  whose  might  the  sire  must  own. 

lo. 
Hath  he  no  way  by  which  this  doom  to  shun  ?  805 

PROMETHEUS. 
Until  my  chains  be  broken,  surely  none. 

lo. 
Despite  of  Zeus,  who  shall  deliver  thee  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
One  of  thy  race  is  destined  to  be  he. 

lo. 
How  sayest  ?     Shall  child  of  mine  thy  rescuer  be  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
When  ten  descents  are  joined  to  others  three.  sio 

lo. 
Hard,  hard,  I  hold  this  prophecy  to  trace ! 

PROMETHEUS. 
Thou  seek'st  no  more  what  woe  thou  next  shalt  face. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  51 

lo. 
The  boon  thou  gavest  set  not  now  aside. 

PROMETHEUS. 
This  will  I  tell,  or  that.     Do  thou  decide. 

To. 
Name  this,  and  that ;  then  leave  the  choice  to  me.     815 

PROMETHEUS. 

I  name  them.     Know  thy  sorrows  yet  to  be, 
Or  who  shall  break  my  bonds  and  set  me  free? 

CHORUS. 

To  her  yield  that;  to  me,  I  pray  thee,  grant 
This  boon.     Dishonor  not  my  prayer ;  but  tell 
To  this  poor  maid  her  weary  wanderings'  term ;          820 
To  me,  thy  rescuer.     This  I  pine  to  hear. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Since  ye  entreat  me,  I  will  not  deny 
To  explain  the  whole  ye  seek  for.     And  to  thee, 
Sad  lo,  first,  thy  wanderings  dread  and  drear 
I  will  enumerate,  which  inscribe  thou  825 

Deep  in  the  mindful  tablets  of  thy  soul. 
The  wild  gulf  passed,  which  bounds  with  foamy  roar 
This  continent,  pursue  thy  path  of  woe 
Toward  the  bright-burning  sunrise,  till  thou  reach 
Desert  Kisthene's  Gorgon-haunted  plain,  830 

Where  dwell  the  Phorkides,  in  lonely  eld, 
Three  swan-white  maidens,  with  one  eye  for  all, 
One  tooth,  —  whom  never  doth  the  sun's  glad  beam 
Behold,  nor  gentler  moon's  nocturnal  ray. 


52  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

Nigh  these,  I  warn  thee,  shun  with  fearful  care          835 

Their  sisters,  mortal-haters,  serpent-haired, 

The  strong- winged  Gorgons  three,  whom  never  yet 

Hath  man  beheld,  nor  ever  shall  and  live  ! 

Hear  now  another  perilous  sight  and  wild,  839 

Which  thou  must  brave,  —  the  unbarking  dogs  of  Zeus, 

The  crook-beaked  Gryphons,  and  that  one-eyed  host, 

Horse-trampling,  Arimaspian,  who  beside 

The  fount  that  flows  with  gold,  hight  Pluton's  stream, 

Camp  terrible.     Approach  not  these  ;  but  on ! 

Till,  at  earth's  confine,  the  swart  tribe  shalt  find         845 

Who  dwell  about  the  sources  of  the  sun, 

Whence  bursts  the  Aithiop  River  ;  by  whose  bank 

Wind  careful,  till  at  length  thou  shalt  arrive 

Where  from  the  Bybline  mountains  headlong  down 

Pours  Nile  his  sweetest  and  most  sacred  flood,  850 

Stupendous  cataract.     He  shall  guide  thee  true 

To  that  triangular  Nile-girded  ground, 

Where  it  is  destined  that  thy  race,  and  thou, 

lo,  a  distant  colony  shall  found. 

Should  aught  of  this  or  dark  or  strange  appear,  855 

Ask  it  again,  and  o'er,  and  learn  it  clear ; 

Leisure  have  I,  beyond  my  wishes  here. 

CHORUS. 

If  aught  there  be  untold,  and  yet  to  tell, 
Of  that  soul-wasting  journey,  give  it  tongue 
Forthwith.     If  thou  hast  said  the  whole  right  out,       860 
Give  me  the  boon  I  crave,  —  thou  know'st  it  well. 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  53 

PROMETHEUS. 

The  term  of  all  her  wanderings  she  hath  heard 
Already.     But,  that  she  may  learn  how  true 
That  she  hath  learned,  —  my  teaching  to  approve,  — 
Her  wanderings  hitherward,  foregone  and  past,  865 

I  now  declare ;  not  wasting  aught  of  breath, 
But  forthright  speeding  to  her  journey's  end. 
For  when  thou  earnest  to  the  Molossian  plains, 
And  lofty-ridged  Dodone,  where  the  shrines 
Oracular  are  of  great  Thesprotian  Zeus,  870 

And,  miracle  most  strange,  the  prophet  oaks 
By  which,  no  more  in  dark  enigmas,  thou 
Wert  clearly  hailed  the  glorious  wife  of  Zeus, 
In  the  to  be  hereafter.     Glads  thee  this?  — 
Thence  by  the  sea-side  way  thou  spedst  amain,  875 

Fly-haunted,  to  old  Rheia's  vasty  gulf, 
And  back  wert  goaded  in  wild,  refluent  course. 
But,  for  all  time  to  come,  that  deep  sea-bay 
Shall  bear  thy  name,  Ionian,  of  thy  track 
An  everlasting  memory  to  men.  830 

Be  this  to  thee  a  token  of  my  soul, 
Which  pierces  onward,  and  sees  far  aloof 
Beyond  the  visible.     The  rest  I  tell 
In  common  to  you  both,  where  late  I  ceased 
Beginning.     At  Nile's  mouth  and  utmost  shore  ^5 

A  town  there  is,  Kanopos,  last  of  earth. 
There  then  shall  Zeus  at  length  thy  spirit  restore, 
Touching  thee  only  with  caressing  hand 


54  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

All-fearless.     But  thereafter  of  Zeus'  touch 

Black  Epaphos  shalt  bear,  who  all  the  plain  890 

Shall  reap,  by  Nile's  broad  deluge  fertile  made. 

From  him  the  fifth  descent,  of  fifty  maids, 

Unwilling  shall  return  to  Argos  back, 

Flying  the  kindred  wedlock  fifty-fold 

Of  cousins.     They,  with  souls  demented  quite, —         895 

Falcons  not  far  by  trembling  doves  outflown,  — 

Shall  come  in  chase  of  bridals,  which  shall  mar 

The  chasers,  —  fate  denying  them  the  brides. 

These  shall  receive  Pelasgia,  when  the  grooms 

Have  perished  through  the  rage,  waking  by  night,      900 

Of  those  fair  females ;  for  each  wife  her  spouse, 

Bathing  the  two-edged  sword  in  blood,  shall  slay. 

Such  may  the  wedlock  of  my  enemies  be. 

One  only  of  those  girls  soft  love  shall  sway 

To  spare  her  bed-mate ;  and  her  spirit  shall  fail,          905 

That  rather  she  shall  choose,  of  counsels  twain, 

A  coward  than  a  homicide  to  be. 

And  she  in  Argos  shall  bring  forth  a  race 

Right  royal.     Thence  't  were  long  to  tell  the  whole 

All  orderly;  but  of  that  seed  shall  be  born  910 

One  brave,  renowned  with  the  bow,  these  bonds 

Who  shall  break  loose.     Thus  did  my  mother  read 

The  book  of  fate,  Titanian  Themis  old. 

But  how,  and  where,  it  much  my  speech  would  strain 

To  teach  ye,  and  ye  learning  nought  would  gain.        915 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  55 

lo. 

0  pity  !  0  pity !  alas  ! 

The  spasms  are  upon  me,  the  sore-smiting  lash 
Of  that  madness  divine  is  inflaming  my  soul ! 
My  heart  in  my  bosom  beats  blindly  for  dread, 
And  my  eyes  stare  around  me,  unearthly  and  red !     920 
Like  a  ship  from  my  moorings,  out  o'er  the  wide  seas, 
To  the  mad  gusts  of  frenzy,  I  stagger  and  roll ; 
And  my  words  leap  to  life,  all  unseemly  and  rash, 
From  the  tempest  that  bursts  on  my  soul. 

CHORUS. 
Strophe. 

Wise  truly,  truly  wise  was  he,  925 

Who  first  perceived  within  his  secret  heart, 
And  with  his  tongue  declared  in  language  free, 
How  it  is  aye  the  wisest  part 
For  like  with  like  to  wed  ; 

And  that  the  mean  should  never  woo  the  bed  930 

Of  those  who  riot  in  great  stores  of  gold, 
Or  boast  themselves  of  lofty  lineage  old. 
Antistrophe. 

Me  never,  never  may  ye  see, 

0  Fates,  deluded  by  a  thought  so  high, 

Of  Zeus'  immortal  couch  the  bride  to  be,  935 

Nor  from  the  mansions  of  the  sky 

A  bridegroom  God  to  gain ;  — 

Me,  who  behold  lorn  lo's  frantic  pain, 

From  land  to  land  pursued  by  Here's  hate, 


56  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

And  pining  still  unwed  in  virgin  state.  940 

Epode. 

To  me  the  humblest  equal  lot 

Of  wedded  life  were  dreaded  not, 

So  that  the  love  of  no  immortal  God 

Might  look  upon  me  with  that  awful  eve 

From  which  it  were  vain  to  fly, —  945 

'Gainst  which  all  combat  is  but  labor  lost, 

All  wisdom,  counsel  to  the  wild  winds  tost. 

What  I  should  do  I  may  not,  cannot  dream, 

Nor  have  one  silly  scheme 

By  which  to  escape  the  monarch's  fateful  nod.  950 

PROMETHEUS. 

Yet,  yet,  though  now  so  obstinately  great, 

Shall  Zeus  be  humble  ;  such  a  plan  he  frames 

Of  wedlock,  which  him  from  his  sovereign  height 

And  tyrannous  throne  shall  cast,  undone,  that  so 

His  father's  awful  curse  fulfilled  may  be,  955 

Kronos',  who  swore  it  falling  from  his  seat 

Original.     No  God,  save  I  alone, 

This  doom's  reversal  hath  to  show;  but  I 

Doom  and  reversal  see.     Let  him,  I  say, 

Let  him  sit  there,  in  his  high- vaunting  claps  960 

Secure,  and  brandishing  his  bolts  of  flame ; 

For  nought  shall  these  avail  him,  not  to  fall 

Most  wretchedly  a  downfall  infamous. 

So  strong  an  athlete  doth  he  now  array 

Himself  against  himself,  —  dread  prodigy  965 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  57 

Invincible,  —  who  than  the  lightning's  shaft 

A  fiercer  flame,  and  than  the  thunder's  roar 

A  more  pervading  clangor,  shall  find  out, 

And  dissipate  the  ocean  trident's  power, 

That  shakes  the  world,  Poseidon's  surgy  spear.  970 

Then,  crushed  and  writhing,  he  shall  learn  too  late 

What  is  a  slave's,  and  what  a  tyrant's  state! 

CHORUS. 
The  doom  thou  speak'st  is  prompted  by  thy  hate. 

PROMETHEUS. 
I  speak  my  wishes,  —  but  I  speak  his  fate. 

CHORUS. 
For  one  who  shall  enslave  great  Zeus  dost  look?         975 

PROMETHEUS. 
Woes  sterner  far  than  slavery  must  he  brook. 

CHORUS. 
Fearest  not  to  speak  such  hostile  words  and  high? 

PROMETHEUS. 
What  should  I  fear,  whose  fate  is  not  to  die  ? 

CHORUS. 
Yet  heavier  anguish  on  thy  head  may  fall 

PROMETHEUS. 
Fall  it !     I  care  not,  but  expect  it  all !  980 

CHORUS. 
Wisest  are  they  to  vengeful  power  who  bow. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Cringe,  flatter,  .worship  each  new  ruler,  thou  !  — 
To  me  your  Zeus  than  veriest  nought  is  less  ! 


58  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

So  let  him  do,  yea !    reign,  while  reign  he  may, 

As  listeth  him  !     Not  long  the  Gods,  I  trow,  985 

Shall  he  enslave.  —  But  lo  !   Zeus'  foot-boy  fleet !  — 

New  minion  of  new  master !     Now  give  ear ; 

It  is  mighty  news  that  makes  this  herald  here. 

Enter,  to  the  above,  HERMES,  with  Petasus,  Ttdaria,  and  Caduceus,  as  just 
alighted  on  the  earth. 

HERMES. 

Thee,  the  all-wise,  of  bitterest,  railing  tongue, 
The  traitor  of  the  Gods  who  honor,  gave  990 

To  earthlings !  —  thee,  the  thief  of  fire,  I  name  ! 
The  Sire  commands  thee  speak  these  nuptials  out, 
Which  now  thou  mutterest,  and  by  whom  shall  fall 
His  domination.     Speak,  and  clearly  too, 
Not  in  enigmas,  nor  with  double  sense  995 

Deceitful  to  the  ear ;  or  thou  shalt  find 
That  Zeus  unto  his  foes  is  nothing  kind. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Big-mouthed,  I  trow,  and  full  of  windy  pomp, 
Is  all  thy  speech,  as  suits  a  tyrant's  slave. 
New  lords,  ye  reign  but  newly,  and  yet  deem  1000 

Your  thrones  impregnable.     And  have  not  I 
Beheld  two  monarchs  thence  in  ruin  base 
Cast  down,  and  shall  I  not  a  third  behold, 
Most  briefly,  as  most  basely  ?     Seem  I  not 
Before  your  new-made  Gods  to  shake  and  quail?        1005 
That  shame  at  least  I  know  not  of.     But  thou, 
Hence !  by  the  road  which  brought  thee  get  thee  back ! 


PROMETHEUS    FETTERED.  59 

Nought  shalt  thou  learn  of  that  which  he  doth  lack. 

HERMES. 

By  words  misproud  as  these,  and  madly  bold, 
Didst  win  the  station  which  thou  now  dost  hold.         1010 

PROMETHEUS. 

Know  this;  I  would  not  change  my  honest  fate 
For  thy  dishonorable,  slavish  state. 
Better,  I  trow,  the  rude  rock's  slave  to  be, 
Than  cringe  to  Father  Zeus  with  crouching  knee. 
Insult  I  pay  with  insult,  mock  with  mock !  1015 

HERMES. 
Rather,  methinks,  thou  revellest  on  thy  rock. 

PROMETHEUS. 

Revel  I  ?  —  Soon  my  foes,  then,  may  I  see 
So  revelling ;  and  with  those  I  number  thee. 

HERMES. 
Me  for  thy  self-earned  woes  dost  thou  detest  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 

All  Gods  I  hate,  —  and  thee  among  the  rest,  —         1020 
Who  kindest  deeds  have  paid  with  bitterest  wrong. 

HERMES. 
Still  is  thy  madness  impotently  strong. 

PROMETHEUS. 
If  foes  to  hate  be  mad,  mad  let  me  be  ! 

HERMES. 
Proud  now,  what  wert  thou  powerful  and  free  ? 

PROMETHEUS. 
Alas !  1025 


60  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

HERMES. 
That  word  Zeus  knows  not  to  exclaim. 

PROMETHEUS. 
Time  teaches  all.     Soon  shall  he  cry  the  same. 

HERMES. 
No  prudence  hast  thou  learned  in  durance  vile. 

PROMETHEUS. 
How  should  I,  speaking  with  a  slave  the  while  ? 

HERMES. 
It  seems  what  he  requires  thou  wilt  not  say.  1030 

PROMETHEUS. 
Good  faith!  I  ought  his  favors  to  repay. 

HERMES. 
Were  I  a  child,  thou  coulclst  not  scorn  me  more. 

PROMETHEUS. 

And  art  thou  not  a  child,  or  less  than  child, 
Hoping  to  learn  from  me  ?     Look  here  !  look  here  ! 
There  is  no  form  of  anguish,  nor  device,  1035 

Disgrace,  nor  shame,  by  which  your  Zeus  can  force 
My  utterance  of  these  things,  till  my  chains 
Be  loosed.     Then  let  him  launch  his  glowing  flame, — 
With  white-winged  snow  and  subterraneous  din 
Of  thunder  let  him  shake  the  universe.  1040 

Me  shall  he  nothing  move  the  name  to  own 
Of  who  shall  hurl  him  from  his  tyrannous  throne  ! 

HERMES. 
See  if  by  this  thy  woes  wax  not  the  more. 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  61 

PROMETHEUS. 
Seen  it  I  have,  and  thought  of  it  of  yore. 

HERMES. 

0  fool!  endure,  endure  for  once,  I  say,  1045 

To  bend  your  haughty  heart  and  grace  to  pray. 

PROMETHEUS. 

In  vain  you  stun  me,  like  the  ceaseless  surge 
The  rocks  persuading.     Hope  not  e'er  that  I, 
In  dread  of  Zeus,  a  woman's  soul  will  wear, 
Or  with  effeminate  lifting  up  of  hands  1050 

Him,  whom  I  hate  so  bitterly,  implore 
To  loose  me  from  my  chains.     Away !  no  more  ! 

HERMES. 

Much  have  I  said  in  vain,  and  much,  it  seems, 
Shall  say ;   for  nought  art  melted  or  subdued 
By  these  mine  admonitions;  but  dost  fight  1055 

As  a  colt  newly  yoked,  against  the  bit 
Champing  and  foaming,  till,  worn  out  at  length, 
Panting  he  falls  and  faint.     For  stubborn  will 
To  evil  counsel  joined  is  nothing  worth, 
Or  worse  than  nothing.     Look,  then,  if  by  words       io60 
Canst  not  be  touched,  look  what  a  storm  of  fate 
Shall  fall  on  thee.     First  this  rude  glen,  rock-bound, 
With  thunder-dint,  and  levin-flame,  the  Sire 
Shall  dash  to  atoms;  and  thy  body  hide, 
Clasped  by  earth's  stony  arm,  in  cold  embrace.          1065 
There  having  suffered  long,  back  to  the  day 
Shalt  suddenly  return.     Zeus'  winged  hound, 


62  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

The  bloody  eagle,  with,  his  violent  beak 

Thy  quivering  flesh  shall  tear,  a  horrible  gash, 

Unbidden  banqueter  ;  who  day  by  day  1070 

Thy  liver  shall  devour  and  drink  thy  gore. 

Of  this  dread  anguish  trust  not  thou  to  find 

Change  or  release,  till  one,  a  God,  shall  choose 

Thy  substitute  in  agony  to  be, 

And  Hades'  rayless  gloom,  and  black  abysms  1075 

Of  Tartaros,  to  visit.     Therefore  think  !  — 

These  be  no  boastful  threats,  but  truths  too  true. 

The  immortal  tongue  of  Zeus  knows  not  to  lie, 

But  all  its  words  are  sooth.     Thou  then  take  heed, 

Look  for  thyself,  and  muse,  nor  fondly  hope  1030 

That  pride  self-willed  with  counsel  sage  may  cope. 

CHORUS. 

To  me  it  seems  that  Hermes  speaks  to  the  point 
And  wisely,  —  who  commands  thee  cast  aside 
This  obstinate  mood,  and  better  counsels  use. 
Shame  is  it  for  the  wise  the  worse  to  choose  !  1085 

PROMETHEUS. 

Well,  well  did  I  know  it,  before  he  had  told 
His  message  of  dread.     But  to  suffer,  I  trow, 
The  bitterest  wrongs  at  the  hand  of  a  foe 
Is  no  shame  to  a  foeman.     Then  let  it  be  cast, 
The  double-edged  ringlet  of  sulphurous  flame,  —         1090 
Let  ether  be  shattered  by  thunder,  and  rent 
By  fury  of  merciless  whirlwinds,  —  let  earth 
From  its  deepest  foundations  be  whirled  by  the  blast, 


PROMETHEUS   FETTERED.  63 

And  the  foam  of  the  ocean,  assailing  the  sky, 
Be  white  in  the  paths  of  the  planets  on  high.  1095 

And  this  body  of  mine,  let  him  hurl  it  amain 
To  the  blackest  abysses  of  Tartaros  old, 
All  helplessly  bound  in  necessity's  chain,  — 
Yet  he  cannot  compel  me  to  die. 

HERMES. 

Ye  may  hear  how  he  rages  with  frantical  words         1100 
And  with  counsels  insane !  —  For,  if  reason  be  here, 
How  is  frenzy  distinguished,  by  eye,  or  by  ear  ? 
And  if  in  his  pangs  he  find  pleasure  or  pride, 
Why  ceases  his  fury  the  Gods  to  deride  ? 
But  ye,  who,  so  gently  consoling  his  woe,  1105 

Throng  around  him,  begone,  while  you  safely  may  go ! 
Lest  the  thunders  of  heaven  your  reason  may  dash 
From  its  throne  by  its  horrible  crash ! 

CHORUS. 

Seek  other  advice,  if  advice  must  be  borne, 
By  which  thou  mayest  win  me !     For  this  thou  hast  spokea 
Is  too  base  for  endurance.     How  darest  thou,  I  say,  mi 
Name  such  vileness  to  me,  who  have  learned  long  ago 
To  esteem  the  betrayer  all  villains  below  ? 
No !  with  him  I  will  suffer  whate'er  may  befall ; 
For  there  is  not  a  crime  which  my  spirit  doth  scorn  1115 
Like  treason,  —  the  falsest  and  foulest  of  all. 

HERMES. 
Remember,  remember  the  words  ye  have  heard, 


64  PROMETHEUS   FETTERED. 

And   the    choice    ye   have   made,  and,  when   dogged   to 

your  doom, 

Neither  fortune  accuse,  nor  declare  that  this  woe 
Unthreatened  by  Zeus,  or  unlocked  for,  has  come.     1120 
For  behold!  ye  shall  find  yourselves  helplessly  cast, 
By  a  fate  neither  secret  nor  sudden,  I  trow, 
In  the  'dark  net  of  destiny,  fettered  and  fast, 
From  which  never  mortal  has  passed. 

PROMETHEUS. 

It  is  done  !     For  in  deed,  and  no  longer  in  word,     1125 
The  firm  earth  is  shaken. 
Far  crashes  the  roar  of  the  bellowing  thunder, 
And  forth  flash  the  circlets  of  sulphurous  fire, 
And  the  eddying  dust-clouds  whirl  higher  and  higher, 
And  the  storm-winds  leap  out  in  their  dreadful  array,  1130 
Raving  hoarse  through  the  sky,  and  ocean  and  ether 
Insanely  together  are  hurled. 
So  surely,  so  fearlessly,  launched  from  above 
Comes  the  havoc  of  Zeus.     0  Glory,  0  Love, 
Of  my  mother  prophetic,  —  0  liberal  air,  1135 

That  revolvest  the  light  and  the  life  of  the  world, 
Behold  how  unjustly  I  bear! 


THE 


AGAMEMNON 


OF 


^SCHYLUS. 


6  * 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus,  in  many  respects  the  grand 
est  and  most  sublime  of  all  the  Hellenic  tragedies,  and  incom 
parably  that  which  contains  the  most  dramatical  effect,  the 
most  intelligible  human  agency,  and  the  most  distinctive  in 
dividual  character,  is  the  first  of  the  Atreidan,  or,  as  it  is 
termed,  Oresteian  trilogy  ;  all  the  three  tragedies  of  which 
are  extant,  affording  to  the  modern  reader  the  only  exam 
ple  of  a  complete  trilogy,  and  therefore  exhibiting  in  their 
most  perfect  form  the  views  of  the  Attic  audience  as  regard 
ing  the  action,  connection,  and  resolution  of  a  complete  tragic 
plot. 

Before  proceeding,  however,  to  examine  into  the  plot  and 
progress  of  the  Agamemnon,  it  will  be  necessary  to  recur  for  a 
while  to  the  previous  history  of  the  crimes  and  fates  of  the 
Atreid  dynasty  ;  as  these  are  not  only  constantly  referred  to, 
but  are  the  direct  origin  and  cause  of  the  consequences  which 
form  the  subject  of  the  present  drama. 

Than  this  trilogy,  and,  indeed,  than  this  drama  in  particular, 
there  exists  no  more  complete  exposition  of  the  old  Hellenic 
creed  of  unalterable,  irresistible,  and  annihilating  destiny  ;  of 
guilt  reproducing  guilt,  —  guilt  involuntary  in  the  actor,  because 
imposed  upon  him  by  an  unavoidable  fate,  and  yet  avenged 
upon  his  head  as  if  it  had  been  the  result  of  a  criminal  volition, 


68  AGAMEMNON. 

rather  than  of  a  hideous  necessity.  With  this  terrible  doctrine 
another  of  similar  nature,  and  closely  combined  with  the 
former,  is  dimly  shadowed  out ;  namely,  the  almost  certain 
occurrence  of  some  overwhelming  reverse,  as  the  absolute 
consequence  of  any  great  preceding  achievement  or  success, 
the  Gods  being  supposed  to  envy  man  the  possession  of  what 
should  seem  in  any  degree  to  resemble  unmingled  felicity  or 
uninterrupted  good  fortune. 

The  origin  of  the  Atreid  house,  according  to  the  legend 
evidently  adopted  by  JEschylus,  was  Zeus  himself,  to  whom, 
of  an  amour  with  the  nymph  Pluto,  was  born  Tantalos,  the 
father  of  Pelops,  who,  by  his  wife  Hippodamia,  had  two  sons, 
Atreus  and  Thyestes.  Atreus,  by  what  marriage  it  is  not 
stated,  had  one  son,  Pleisthenes,  whom  he  survived  ;  and  whose 
widow,  Ae'rope,  he  married,  and  by  her  had  Agamemnon  and 
Menelaos,  named  of  him  the  Atreidre. 

Ae'rope  was  subsequently  seduced  by  Thyestes ;  in  revenge 
of  which  guilt  Atreus  murdered  the  adulterous  progeny  of  his 
wife  and  brother,  and  served  them  up  as  food  to  the  latter,  at  a 
solemn  banquet. 

This  is  the  first  ancestral  crime  to  which  ^Eschylus  alludes 
in  the  drama  ;  and  it  he  directly  names  as  the  origin  of  the  re 
productive  crimes  and  sufferings  of  the  house.  Sin,  however, 
and  retribution,  and  revenge  appear  to  have  clung  to  the  race, 
from  the  time  of  Tantalos,  their  first  progenitor.  Thyestes  left 
one  son,  Aigisthos,  destined  to  be  thereafter  his  avenger. 

In  the  mean  time,  Agamemnon  and  Menelaos  had  married 
Klytaimnestra  and  Helene,  the  daughters  by  repute  of  Tynda- 
ros  and  Leda,  but  the  latter  actually  of  Zeus  and  Leda.  Her 
elopement  with  Paris  led  to  the  expedition  against  Troy,  at  the 
outset  of  which  Agamemnon  was  compelled  by  the  Fates,  as 
interpreted  by  Kalchas  and  enforced  by  Artemis,  to  sacrifice 
his  daughter  Iphigenia  at  the  altar  of  the  enraged  goddess,  in 
order  to  obtain  a  favorable  wind  for  the  storm-bound  fleet,  and 
secure  the  host's  departure  against  Troy. 


INTRODUCTION. 


69 


After  their  sailing,  during  the  absence  of  her  husband  at  the 
ten  years'  siege,  Klytaimnestra  is  seduced  by  Aigisthos ;  and 
having  sent  away  her  son  by  Agamemnon,  Orestes,  to  the  care 
of  Strophios  in  Phokis,  has  determined  on  the  murder  of  her 
lord  on  his  return  from  Ilion,  in  vengeance,  as  she  alleges,  for 
the  sacrifice  of  her  daughter,  but  in  reality  for  the  concealment 
and  indulgence  of  her  criminal  amour  with  Aigisthos. 

And  here  one  would  imagine  there  was  enough  of  guilt  and 
terror,  of  crime  and  retribution,  to  fill  out  the  plot  of  twenty 
tragedies,  until  the  most  insatiate  of  audiences  should  have 
supped  full  of  horrors.  Not  so  the  ancients  ;  and  not  so  the 
great  tragedian,  the  all-powerful  master,  whose  favorite  key 
whereon  to  strike  was  terror,  and  whose  especial  topic  was  the 
overwhelming  and  insatiate  career  of  unalterable,  ever-avenging 
Destiny. 

And  at  this  point  in  the  history  of  the  doomed  Atreid  dynas 
ty  the  action  of  the  trilogy  commences.  After  a  brief  lull, 
during  which  the  storms  of  fate  have  ceased  to  devastate  the 
hapless  race,  nay,  have  yielded  to  a  short  and  illusive  gleam  of 
fortunate  sunshine,  the  curse  breaks  out  again,  harbingered  by 
hideous  prophecies  and  ominous  fears,  and  running  its  course 
through  treason,  murder,  matricide,  and  the  presence  of  the 
avenging  Furies,  the  immortal  brood  of  Hades,  in  the  supernal 
sunlight,  to  the  completion  of  the  fates  of  the  house,  which  is 
brought  to  pass  by  the  intervention  of  Apollo  and  Athene,  who 
acquit  Orestes  of  his  mother's  blood  before  the  high  court,  then 
constituted,  of  the  Areiopagos,  upon  Mars  Hill  in  Athens. 

The  time  has  advanced,  previously  to  the  opening  of  the 
drama,  even  to  the  taking  of  Ilion  ;  which  has  fallen  on  the 
very  evening  during  the  night  of  which  the  action  of  the 
tragedy  commences. 

The  scene  is  laid  at  Argos,  where,  contrary  to  the  historic 
truth  and  the  Homeric  legend,  from  which  jEschylus  material 
ly  diverges,  and  not  at  Mycense,  our  poet  has  placed  the  palace 
of  the  Atreidse,  and  the  stage  of  their  sins  and  sorrows. 


70  AGAMEMNON. 

The  time  is  after  midnight,  not  far  from  daybreak.  The 
scene,  a  public  place  at  Argos,  before  the  palace  of  the 
Atreida?,  on  the  turret-roof  of  which  a  single  sentinel  is  watch 
ing  when  the  drama  opens. 

No  one  of  the  unities,  according  to  the  prevalent  notions 
concerning  the  Greek  unities,  is  preserved.  The  scene  is 
changed  once  ;  the  lapse  of  days,  or  weeks,  must  be  imagined 
during  the  progress  of  events  upon  the  stage  ;  and  the  action, 
though  not  absolutely  interrupted,  cannot  be  said  to  be  con 
tinuous. 

At  the  opening  of  the  drama,  —  the  scene  of  which,  as  we 
have  said,  is  not  laid  at  Mycenae,  the  real  capital  of  Agamem 
non's  dominions,  but  at  Argos,  which  was  subsequently  the  cap 
ital  of  Argolis,  —  the  stage  is  entirely  vacant,  the  time  being  the 
dead  of  night,  and  all  the  citizens  being  supposed  to  be  asleep. 
On  a  watch-tower,  above  the  palace  of  the  Atreidoe,  however,  a 
watcher  is  on  duty ;  who  prologizes,  giving  a  description  of  his 
weariness  and  the  toil  of  his  office,  exercised  during  many  years, 
which  he  has  spent  in  waiting  for  the  "  symbol  of  the  torch  "  ; 
that  is,  the  succession  of  beacon-lights  arranged  by  Klytaimnes- 
tra  to  announce  to  her  the  fall  of  Troy. 

The  real  object  of  this  arrangement  is  to  prevent  the  dis 
covery  of  her  adulterous  intercourse  with  Aigisthos,  and  the 
frustration  of  her  further  projects,  by  the  sudden  return  of  her 
husband  ;  the  pretext,  eagerness  for  his  return. 

During  the  delivery  of  the  prologue,  the  light  of  the  torch 
suddenly  appears ;  upon  which  the  watcher  arouses  the  city 
by  his  joyous  outcries.  Yet  amid  all  his  glee  and  exultation 
at  the  idea  of  again  meeting  his  king,  he  hints  darkly  at  the 
existence  of  some  present  evil,  and  the  possibility  of  future 
calamities  and  crimes. 

Thereupon  the  Chorus,  composed  of  aged  men  forming  the 
/3ovAi?,  or  chief  council  of  the  state  during  the  monarch's  ab 
sence,  enter  singing,  first  a  magnificent  anapaestic  mode,  telling 
of  the  departure  of  the  Atreidoe  ten  years  ago  for  Ilion,  whom 


INTRODUCTION.  71 

it  likens  to  vultures  frantic  with  despair  and  rage  at  the  loss  of 
their  young  stolen  from  the  nest,  accounting  for  their  own  stay 
at  Argos  when  the  host  had  sailed,  and  finally  inquiring  of 
Klytaimnestra,  who  enters  during  the  song  with  her  attendants, 
and  kindles  sacrificial  fires  on  the  altars,  the  cause  of  her  pro 
ceedings.  Then,  without  awaiting  her  reply,  they  burst  into  a 
splendid  choral  strain,  consisting  of  a  strophe,  an  antistrophe, 
and  an  epode,  describing  and  explaining  the  omens  which  ap 
peared  to  the  brother-kings  at  the  moment  of  their  departure, 
deducing  from  them  mingled  prophecies  of  good  and  evil,  and 
deprecating  the  vengeance  of  the  Gods  friendly  to  Troy,  and 
the  rage  of  the  persecuting  demon  of  the  house  of  Atreus. 
Then  follow  four  strophes,  and  as  many  antistrophes,  relating 
the  detention  of  the  ships  at  Aulis,  the  prophecy  of  Kalchas, 
the  mood  of  the  brother-kings,  and  finally  the  sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia,  in  language  and  rhythm  which,  for  power,  sublimity, 
beauty,  and  pathos  all  combined,  have  never,  in  my  opinion, 
been  excelled  in  the  whole  range  of  poetry  ancient  or  modern. 
I  consider  this  unquestionably  the  masterpiece  of  all  that  has 
descended  to  us  of  the  Greek  tragedians ;  I  know  nothing  com 
parable  to  it  in  sweetness,  tenderness,  and  grace,  among  all  the 
classic  marvels  ;  and  I  regard  it,  not  only  as  a  complete  refu 
tation  of  the  idea,  commonly  entertained,  that  ^Eschylus  was  a 
poet  of  terror  only,  averse  to  the  pathetic  mood,  and  incapable 
of  softness,  delicacy,  or  tenderness,  but  as  a  proof  that  he 
possessed  all  these  qualities,  as  he  unquestionably  did  grand 
eur,  sublimity,  and  the  power  of  exciting  awe,  in  a  far  higher 
degree  than  either  of  his  immortal  rivals.  I  say  it  advisedly, 
that  there  is  nothing  in  all  that  we  know,  or  have  a  right  to 
imagine,  of  the  sweetest  fancies  of  "  sad  Electra's  poet," 
which  approaches  the  simple  and  unaffected  tenderness  and 
melancholy  of  this  enchanting  composition.  Faint  as  must  be, 
at  the  best,  the  idea  of  the  original  gained  from  a  translation, 
however  true,  I  cannot  but  hope  that  some  of  the  transcendent 
splendors  of  this  unequalled  chorus  may  be  traced  faintly 


72  AGAMEMNON. 

shining  through  the  medium  of  a  language  far  less  copious, 
less  plastic,  and,  above  all,  less  sonorous,  than  the  grand  old 
Hellenic  tongue,  in  the  version  which  I  have  the  honor  of  sub 
mitting. 

This  chant  ended,  the  old  men  proceed  to  question  Klytaim- 
nestra  as  to  the  cause  of  her  apparently  inexplicable  elation, 
and  her  means  of  obtaining  information  ;  to  which  she  re 
sponds,  after  a  short  alternate  dialogue,  by  a  noble  speech,  de 
scribing  the  transmission  of  the  glad  tidings  by  a  succession 
of  beacon-lights  from  point  to  point,  commencing  on  the 
heights  of  Ida,  and  terminating  on  the  crag  of  Arachne,  "  the 
station  next  our  town." 

This  fine  passage  has  suggested,  probably,  the  idea  of  the 
effect  of  night-beacons  to  several  modern  poets  of  the  highest 
order,  and  has  thus  been  the  origin  of  some  of  the  finest  things 
in  modem  composition,  as  regards  spirit,  rapidity,  and  brilliant 
imagery,  —  I  refer  more  particularly  to  the  scenery  of  the 
second  canto  of  "  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  by  Scott,  and 
to  Macaulay's  magnificent  fragment,  "  The  Spanish  Armada," 
—  yet  it  is  not  to  be  disputed,  that,  in  diversity  of  expression, 
splendor  of  language,  and  glow  of  illustration,  the  Greek  takes 
the  lead  of  its  brilliant  successors,  for  excellence  no  less  than 
for  originality. 

The  translation  of  this  passage  by  Potter  is  singularly  de 
fective,  as  regards  the  spirit  and  harmony  of  the  original,  but 
what  is  more  remarkable,  —  for  Potter  was  esteemed  a  correct 
scholar  in  his  day,  —  it  is  disgraced  by  an  error  of  quantity  of 
the  worst  kind,  and  by  several  misconstructions,  which  would  not 
be  pardoned  in  a  sixth-form  Etonian  of  the  present  day.  Sir 
Edward  Bulwer  Lytton,  in  his  "  Athens  and  the  Athenians," 
has  given  a  very  rapid  and  spirited  paraphrase  of  this  celebrat 
ed  passage,  but  he  has  rendered  the  iambics  of  the  original  into 
a  lyrical  measure,  which  is  certainly  not  consonant  with  the 
dignity  of  the  conception,  any  more  than  it  would  be  to  translate 
one  of  Hamlet's  or  Macbeth' s  soliloquies  into  an  Italian  can- 


INTRODUCTION.  73 

zone,  or  a  French  chanson  a  boire.  Like  into  like  appears  to 
me  to  be  an  inevitable  law  of  translation,  and  one  which  can 
never  be  violated  without  violating  both  the  truth  and  the  tone 
of  the  original. 

On  hearing  this,  the  Chorus  express  their  gratitude  to  the 
Gods,  but  desire  to  learn  something  further  of  the  matter ;  when 
Klytaimnestra,  drawing  somewhat  on  her  imagination,  describes 
the  present  state  of  the  sacked  city,  and  of  the  triumphant  host, 
as  she  supposes  it  to  be  ;  and  then,  expressing  some  fear  lest 
the  Gods,  in  envy  of  so  great  mortal  prosperity,  should  inflict 
some  calamity  on  the  house  of  Atreus,  concludes  by  a  sort  of 
prayer  for  a  continuance  of  their  favor. 

Consequently  upon  this,  the  old  men  sing  another  very  fine 
chorus,  which,  like  the  last,  is  singularly  combined  of  majesty, 
melancholy,  and  pathos,  deprecatory  of  the  wrath  of  the  Gods, 
descriptive  of  the  flight  of  Helene  and  the  misery  of  the  aban 
doned  Menelaos,  and  concluding  by  a  dirge-like  lamentation 
over  the  brave  who  have  fallen  around  the  hostile  walls  of 
II  ion. 

Klytaimnestra  now  announces  exultingly  the  confirmation  of 
her  tidings,  for  she  sees  approaching  from  the  sea-shore,  over 
shadowed  with  laurels,  a  herald,  whose  good  report  the  beacons 
have  anticipated.  Talthybios  then  enters,  and,  having  bid  hail 
his  mother  earth  and  saluted  the  Gods  of  his  country,  trium 
phantly  relates  the  fall  of  Troy,  and  announces  the  approach  of 
Agamemnon. 

An  alternate  conversation  follows  between  the  Chorus  and 
the  herald,  in  which  the  former  again  allude  to  some  secret 
cause  of  dread,  which  they  have  been  forced  to  entertain  during 
the  absence  of  the  king.  The  herald  then  proceeds  to  relate  at 
large  the  sufferings  of  the  Achaian  host  before  Troy,  and  the 
taking  of  the  city ;  to  which  Klytaimnestra  makes  answer  in  a 
set  speech,  bidding  him  return  with  her  greetings  to  her  lord, 
and  hasten  him  homeward,  after  which  she  retires  into  the 
palace,  to  make  preparation  for  his  triumphant  entry  into 


74  AGAMEMNON. 

Argos.  She  gone,  the  Chorus  question  TaUhybios  further 
concerning  the  host,  when  he  relates  somewhat  reluctantly 
how  a  fearful  storm  overtook,  dispersed,  and  shattered  the 
victorious  fleet,  and  how  Menelaos  was  lost,  during  the  tempest, 
from  the  navy.  He  then  leaves  the  stage.  The  Chorus  sing 
another  ode,  descriptive  of  the  entrance  of  Helene  into  Troy, 
and  of  the  ruin  which  she  brought  upon  it,  and  all  its  citizens, 
and  ending  by  a  mysterious  anticipation  of  some  dreadful  ap 
proaching  calamity,  and  a  deprecation  of  retributive  justice  on 
the  house  of  the  Atreidee.  During  the  chorus,  Agamemnon 
enters  in  his  triumphal  car,  with  Kassandra  by  his  side,  and  the 
conquering  army  with  their  ensigns  and  trophies  following. 
The  Chorus  greet  him  in  an  anapaestic  mode,  and  he  replies  to 
them  in  a  temperate,  manly,  and  noble  speech,  returning  thanks 
to  the  Gods  for  his  safe  return,  touching  modestly  on  his  great 
victory,  giving  much  credit  to  the  Gods  for  the  conquest,  and 
due  praise  to  his  comrades,  especially  to  Odysseus,  and  promis 
ing  good  government  to  his  people. 

Thereupon,  Klytaimnestra,  who  has  entered  with  her  maid 
ens  to  meet  him,  utters  a  long,  elaborate,  hypocritical  speech, 
expressive  of  her  sufferings  during  his  absence  and  her  joy  at 
his  return,  a  speech  which  jEschylus  has,  with  consummate 
skill,  intentionally  made  artificial,  ornate,  and  oratorical,  in 
order  to  show  that  it  is  not  spontaneous,  or  from  the  heart. 
Agamemnon  appears  partially  to  see  this,  and  replies  somewhat 
bluntly ;  after  which  a  singular  discussion  follows  between  the 
royal  pair,  she  insisting  that  he  shall  enter  the  palace  walking 
upon  purple  and  embroidered  tapestries,  he  declining  it,  lest 
he  should  thereby  provoke  the  wrath  of  the  Gods.  She  at 
length  prevails,  however  ;  and,  first  causing  his  sandals  to  be 
unloosed,  he  enters  the  palace  treading  on  the  rich  foot-cloths 
which  her  maidens  have  spread  in  his  way,  having  commended 
Kassandra  to  her  care. 

It  is  not  easy  to  account  for  the  extreme  urgency  of  Klytaim 
nestra  on  this  seemingly  unimportant  point ;  yet  it  appears  to 


INTRODUCTION.  75 

arise  from  deeper  feeling  than  a  mere  hypocritical  affectation  of 
excessive  joy  and  reverence.  Perhaps  it  is  to  be  understood, 
that  she  wishes  to  render  him  guilty  of  an  act  of  arrogant  pre 
sumption  in  the  sight  of  the  Gods  before  murdering  him,  so  as 
either  to  lighten  the  burden  of  her  own  iniquity,  or  to  increase 
his  sufferings  by  sending  him  down  to  Hades  an  object  of  in 
dignation,  rather  than  a  subject  of  compassion,  to  the  Gods. 

After  his  departure,  the  Chorus  burst  into  another  strain  of 
the  darkest  and  most  dismal  anticipation,  announcing  a  blind 
and  unaccountable  horror  which  overhangs  them,  and  from 
which  they  forebode  the  coming  of  some  hideous  calamity. 

Klytaimnestra,  after  vainly  calling  upon  Kassandra,  and 
urging  her  to  enter  the  palace  with  her,  she  sitting  the  while 
in  her  chariot  perfectly  unmoved  and  impassive,  rushes  indig 
nant  and  furious  into  the  palace,  in  pursuit  of  Agamemnon. 

As  soon  as  she  is  gone,  a  scene  of  terrible  sublimity  and 
power  ensues  between  Kassandra  and  the  Chorus.  Regaining 
her  tongue,  she  at  once  breaks  out  into  lamentations,  and  ob 
secrations  on  Apollo,  her  destroyer,  for  bringing  her  to  this 
hideous  abode  of  murder,  adultery,  incest,  and  omnigenous  hor 
ror.  The  spirits  of  all  the  murdered  Atreida3  of  past  ages 
seem  to  float  around  her  ;  the  slaughtered  children  of  Thyestes 
sit  upon  the  battlements,  extending  their  small  hands  filled  with 
their  own  roasted  flesh  to  their  shuddering  father;  the  floor 
reeks  with  slaughter,  and  the  roof  distils  human  gore,  before 
her  retrospective  and  prophetic  vision. 

Then,  while  the  Chorus  tremble  and  doubt  and  indistinctly 
trace  her  meanings,  she  describes  the  slaughterous  treason- 
bath,  the  net  of  Hades,  —  meaning  the  sleeveless  robe,  —  the 
murderous  wife,  and  the  betrayed  husband,  typified  by  the 
cow  slaying  the  black-horned  bull ;  bewails  her  own  fate  as 
that  of  the  shrill-voiced  nightingale,  whose  fate  she  envies  ; 
and  ultimately,  descending  from  her  wild  and  dithyrambic 
modes,  plainly  and  distinctly  predicts  her  own  death  and  that 
of  Agamemnon  by  the  hand  of  Klytaimnestra,  Still,  in  ac- 


76  AGA3IEMNON. 

corclance  with  the  penalty  denounced  against  Kassandra  by 
Apollo,  the  Chorus,  though  distinctly  forewarned,  cannot  com 
prehend  her ;  and,  after  a  further  prophecy  of  the  retribution 
which  shall  overtake  Klytaimnestra  by  the  hands  of  Orestes, 
she  takes  leave  of  life,  and  calmly  enters  the  palace,  knowing 
that  she  goes  to  her  death,  and  apostrophizing  the  gates  as 
those  of  Hades. 

So  soon  as  she  is  gone,  while  the  Chorus  are  chanting  their 
forebodings,  the  cries  of  Agamemnon,  and  his  death-groans, 
are  heard  from  within;  and,  as  the  Chorus  are  deliberating  as 
to  what  they  shall  do,  and  unable  to  come  to  any  conclusion, 
the  scene  changes,  and  displays  Klytaimnestra  standing,  with 
the  bloody  axe  in  her  hand,  beside  the  silver  bath,  with  Aga 
memnon  and  Klytaimnestra,  the  former  involved  in  the  sleeve 
less  robe,  lying  dead  at  her  feet. 

In  a  tone  of  insolent  and  audacious  wickedness,  which  is  in 
itself  sublime,  she  now  addresses  the  Chorus,  justifying  her 
murder  of  her  husband,  as  a  deed  of  retribution  for  the  sac 
rifice  of  Iphigenia,  laying  the  blame  on  Destiny  and  the  Ate 
which  pursues  the  race,  and  defying  the  resentment  of  the 
citizens. 

While  she  and  the  Chorus  are  disputing,  Aigisthos  enters, 
and  attempts  to  justify  the  whole  proceeding  by  reference  back 
even  to  the  time  and  the  catastrophe  of  his  father,  Thyestes ; 
attributing  his  own  conduct  to  meritorious  revenge  on  the  de 
scendant  of  Atreus  for  the  atrocious  crime  of  his  grandfather, 
and  claiming  the  throne  as  the  eldest  surviving  male  heir 
of  the  Pelopid  dynasty.  The  Chorus  deny  his  pretensions, 
threaten  to  resort  to  arms,  and  a  conflict  seems  inevitable  ; 
when  Klytaimnestra,  by  her  imperturbable  boldness  and  dig 
nity,  calm  in  the  midst  of  guilt  and  horror,  overawes  all  oppo 
sition  to  her  will,  silences  the  Chorus,  and,  insisting  on  her 
right  and  might  to  govern,  the  play  closes,  leaving  destiny 
accomplished,  and  wickedness,  for  the  moment,  triumphant  ; 
while  innocence  and  majesty,  in  Kassandra  and  the  king,  lie 
overpowered  and  undone. 


INTRODUCTION.  77 

Destiny,  then,  it  will  at  once  be  seen,  inevitable  retribution 
on  posterity  of  ancestral  crime,  the  certain  succession  of  ca 
lamity  to  excessive  prosperity,  suffering  not  to  be  avoided  by 
virtue,  and  deeds  compelled  by  Fate  imputed  as  crimes  to  the 
actor,  though  himself  a  mere  helpless  agent  of  an  unavoidable 
and  overruling  necessity,  are  the  fearful  and  mysterious  influ 
ences  which  direct  the  course  of  this  most  tragical  drama. 

And  rare  is  the  skill  by  which  the  ideas  of  these  are  kept 
ever  uppermost  and  foremost  in  the  reader's  mind  from  the 
very  beginning  of  the  play;  never  lost  sight  of  even  amid  the 
joy  and  excitement  of  the  triumph  in  the  middle  of  its  action, 
and  rising  preeminent,  so  as  to  overshadow  all  other  thoughts, 
as  the  catastrophe  draws  nigh,  and  is  at  last  accomplished,  pre 
cisely  as  at  first  dimly  hinted,  then  mysteriously  foreshown, 
and  at  last  distinctly  prophesied,  during  the  course  of  a  train 
of  events  tending  directly  to  this  issue.  It  is  to  this  end  that 
the  poet  dwells  so  long  and  so  impressively  on  the  sacrifice 
of  Iphigenia,  in  the  first  strain  of  the  Chorus,  because  that 
sacrifice  is  the  key  to  her  father's  fate.  It  is  to  this  end  that 
the  Chorus  harp  so  continually  on  the  dark  fates  of  the  house 
of  Alreus,  and  so  fearfully  deprecate  the  envy  of  the  Gods, 
lest  it  should  be  provoked  to  set  off  such  splendid  prosperity  by 
some  signal  reverse. 

Yet,  withal,  the  interest  of  the  action  is  in  no  wise  impaired, 
nor  the  progress  of  the  plot  anticipated  ;  and  were  we  not 
aware  beforehand  of  the  legendary  termination  of  the  myth, 
we  should  arrive  at  its  catastrophe  with  emotions  of  wonder, 
surprise,  and  thrilling  fear,  equal  to  those  which  we  experience 
as  we  see,  for  the  first  time,  the  fate  of  the  over-gentle  and  re 
fined  Hamlet,  or  the  fall  of  the  arch-criminal  Macbeth. 

In  this  grand  tragedy,  of  which  the  lyrical  portions  are  un 
questionably  the  finest  specimens  of  the  tragic  chorus  extant, 
there  is  far  more,  it  must  be  observed,  of  human  character, 
human  passion,  and  particular  personal  identity,  than  in  any 
other  of  the  Greek  dramas ;  in  which,  for  the  most  part,  the 

7  * 


78  AGAMEMNON. 

actors  are  more  or  less  statuesque,  —  sublime,  impassive  per 
sonages,  delivering  sonorous  sentiments,  with  occasional  grand 
bursts  of  passion  or  pathos,  but  little  influenced  by  human 
motives,  or  subject  to  human  passions.  We,  however,  have 
in  Klytaimnestra  a  character  scarcely  second  for  the  power 
of  its  conception  and  the  breadth  of  its  outlines  to  the  Lady 
Macbeth  of  Shakspeare,  and  filled  in  with  the  nicest  attention 
to  details,  and  the  most  thorough  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart.  We  have  in  Kassandra  all  that  we  can  conceive  of  the 
demented,  yet  inspired,  Pythoness  ;  and  in  Agamemnon  all  that 
we  require  or  expect  of  stateliness  and  majesty  in  the  taker 
of  Troy,  and  of  that  sustained  and  firm  solidity,  which  enables 
us  to  see  in  him  the  chief  actor  in  that  dread  sacrifice  which 
was  the  precursor  of  his  own  doom. 

This  is  no  place  for  a  long  or  elaborate  essay  on  this  won 
drous  effort  of  human  genius  ;  with  this  slight  sketch,  therefore, 
of  its  plot,  and  this  brief  explanation  of  its  intent  and  inner 
meaning,  as  I  understand  them,  I  submit  to  the  candid  and 
kindly  judgment  of  the  judicious  this  version  of  what  I  es 
teem  the  most  complete  and  tragical  of  the  tragic  dramas  of 
antiquity. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


THE  WATCHER. 

CHORUS,  of  Aged  Citizens. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

TALTKYBIOS,  the  Herald. 

AGAMEMNON. 

KASSANDRA. 

AlGISTHOS. 


A  GAME  M  N  O  1ST . 


SCENE.  —  An  open  place,  in  front  of  the  palace  of  the  Atreidce,  at  Argos.  On 
the  (eft  hand,  a  view  of  the  city ;  on  the  right,  in  the  distance,  the  sea-shore ; 
before  the  palace  an  altar,  with  statues  of  several  Gods,  Zeus,  Apollo,  and 
Hermes.  TJie  stage  is  vacant ;  but  on  a  tower,  above  the  palace-roof,  a 
watcher  is  seen,  who  prologizes. 

The  time,  at  the  commencement,  is  night  drawing  toward  morning  ;  day  breaks 
as  the  drama  proceeds ;  and,  although  the  continuity  of  action  is  apparently 
kept  up,  the  unity  of  time,  at  least,  is  violated  throughout  the  piece  ;  considera 
ble  periods  being  supposed  to  elapse  during  the  singing  of  the  choral  songs. 

THE  WATCHER. 

X  RESPITE  of  these  toils,  my  watch  through  years 
Long-drawn,  I  crave  the  Gods,  —  my  dog-like  watch, 
Which,  couched  on  the  Atreides'  roof,  I  keep, 
Marking  the  concourse  of  the  nightly  stars, 
Bearers  to  men  of  heat  or  wintry  cold,  5 

Resplendent  dynasts  gorgeous  in  the  sky,  — 
What  time  they  wane  in  heaven  and  when  they  rise. 
And  still  I  wait  the  signal  of  the  torch, 


82  AGAMEMNON. 

The  glare  of  flame,  to  speed  the  news  from  Troy, 

The  rumor  of  her  fall.     For  so  commands  10 

A  wife's  man-counselling,  expectant  heart. 

Nor,  since  this  night-disturbed  couch  I  hold, 

Unvisited  by  dreams  and  dew  besprent, 

Which  terror  ministers,  not  gentle  sleep, 

Have  my  closed  eyes  known  rest ;  but  when  I  seek      15 

In  some  old  ballad  or  low-whistled  air 

An  antidote  to  drowsiness,  my  tears 

Drown  the  poor  remedy,  and  lament  the  woe 

Of  this  old  house,  well  ordered  by  its  lords 

No  longer.     0,  but  gladly  would  it  come,  20 

At  glare  of  the  blessed  fire  through  darkness  seen, 

Cessation  of  this  toil  — 

The  glare  of  a  beacon  suddenly  appears  in  the  distance  on  the  right  hand. 

And  lo  !  —  all  hail, 
Torch  of  the  night,  a  lustre  as  of  day 
Dispensing,  and  the  mirth  of  many  a  dance 
And  choir  in  Argos,  for  thy  tidings'  sake.  25 

What,  ho !     What,  ho  !     To  Agamemnon's  wife 
I  signify  aloud  that,  from  her  couch 
Speedily  rising,  she  set  up  the  cry 
Shrill  through  the  house,  this  fortunate  torch  to  hail  ; 
Since  now  Troy  town  is  taken,  as  the  blaze  30 

Of  yon  clear  beacon  tells  us.     I  myself 
Will  dance  the  prelude  to  it,  and  deem  it  gain 
To  my  good  lords  that  this  my  beacon-watch 
Thrice  six  hath  thrown  o'  the  dice.     0,  may  't  be  mine 


AGAMEMNON.  83 

To  clasp  him  hand  with  hand,  and  welcome  home         35 

Our  house's  king !     The  rest  I  speak  not  of. 

Great  silence  guards  my  tongue  ;  and  yet  the  house, 

The  house  itself,  could  it  take  voice,  might  cry 

Most  loud  and  clear.     For  me,  I  willing  speak 

To  who  know  this  ;   to  who  know  not,  am  dumb.  40 

The  CHOKUS  now  make  their  appearance  in  the  orchestra,  bdoiv  the  stage. 

CHORUS. 

Ten  years  have  come,  ten  years  have  flown, 
Since  Priam's  rivals  twain, 
The  strong  Atreidae,  rushed  amain, 
King  Menelaos,  and  his  fere, 

Great  Agamemnon,  heaven-endowed  45 

With  twofold  sceptre,  twofold  throne. 
Seaward,  with  martial  rescue  loud, 
A  thousand  galleys  in  their  train, 
Fierce  did  they  steer, 

Shrieking  their  war-notes  stern  and  dread,  50 

Like  eagles,  o'er  their  wind-rocked  bed 
On  oary  pinions  wheeling  high, 
Who  hear  their  ravished  nestlings  cry, 
Robbed  of  the  fond  domestic  care 

That  linked  them  to  their  lofty  lair.  55 

But  an  avenger  soon  is  found, 
Who  hears  on  high  the  piercing  sound 
Of  parents  wailing  shrill  and  hollow  ; 
Pan,  or  Zeus,  or  haply  Apollo, 
Who  sends  upon  the  sinner's  track  60 


84  AGAMEMNON. 

The  slow-foot  fury  never  slack. 

So  Zeus,  on  guest-rites  aye  intent, 

Forth  the  strong  sons  of  Atreus  sent, 

On  Paris  to  avenge  his  wrong, 

And  hers,  the  oft-espoused  wife  ;  6-"> 

Preparing  keen  and  deadly  strife, 

With  javelins  shattered  in  the  thrust, 

And  stout  knees  wrestling  in  the  dust, 

For  Greeks  and  Trojans  both.     But  now 

E'en  as  it  is,  it  is ;  and  fate  is  wroken.  70 

For  not  by  sacrifice,  or  vow, 

Or  tear-drop  shed,  or  supplication  spoken, 

Shall  mortal  soothe  the  endless  ire 

Of  them  whose  hearth  admits  no  fire. 

But  we,  with  worthless  limbs  and  old,  75 

Unfitted  to  the  rescue  bold, 

Here  linger,  left  behind  ; 

Guiding  with  staves  our  footsteps  slow, 

That  totter  childlike  as  they  go. 

For  youngest  babes  and  grandsires  hoar  80 

Are  peers ;  and  in  them  War  is  not. 

But  he  whose  spring  of  life  is  spent, 

His  leaf  already  sere  and  shent, 

Three-footed  wanders,  man  no  more, 

A  day-dream  on  a  lonely  shore.  85 

KLTTAIMNESTRA  enters  from  the  palace  with  her  train,  and  begins  to  offer 
sacrifice  before  the  various  Gods. 

Come,  tell  me,  Klytaimnestra  fair, 


AGAMEMNON.  8£ 

Of  Tyndareus  the  queenly  heir, 

What  is  the  cry  ?     The  triumph  what  ? 

Wherefore  on  all  the  altars  raise 

Of  all  the  Gods  this  splendid  blaze?  90 

Earthly,  heavenly,  still  they  glow, 

Of  those  above,  and  those  below. 

Gods  o'  the  city,  Gods  o'  the  mart, 

Into  living  light  they  start. 

Hither,  thither,  heavenward  soaring,  95 

Fed  by  drugs  of  royal  storing, 

Streams  the  mighty  glare  aloft 

With  persuasion  pure  and  soft. 

Say,  then,  lady,  what  you  may, 

If  it  lawful  be  to  say.  100 

Soothe  this  bitter  care  of  mine, 

Which  at  one  time  rends  my  breast, 

Ominous  of  ill,  and  then, 

From  the  altars  as  they  shine, 

Growing  into  life  again,  105 

Lulls  the  angry  care  to  rest. 

Strophe. 

I  know  the  omens  which  the  way  along 

Appeared  unto  the  kingly  chiefs,  —  for  strong 

Age  breathes  from  heaven  the  confidence  of  song, 

A  kindred  grace,  —  no 

What  time  the  impetuous  bird  sent  out 

The  Achaians'  two-throned  power, 

And  Hellas'  martial  flower, 


86  AGAMEMNON. 

In  league  resolved  and  stout, — 

Sent  them  with  puissant  spear,  and  potent  hand,         115 

Against  the  Teucrian  land, 

The  king  of  birds  to  the  king  of  ships  appearing, 

The  royal  palace  nearing, 

On  the  spear-hand  conspicuous  in  place,  — 

One  black,  and  white-tailed  one, —  120 

A  teeming  hare  devouring  with  her  race, 

Their  last  course  briefly  run. 

Mournfully,  mournfully  sing;   but  may  the  good  prevail. 

Antlslrophe. 

The  camp's  wise  seer  observed  the  brother  kings, 
Diverse  of  soul,  and  knew  the  warlike  wings  125 

Of  those  hare-slaughterers,  what  hidden  things 
They  did  portend, 

Speeding  the  host.     And  thus  he  spake 
Prophetical.     "  In  time, 

This  host  Troy  town  sublime,  130 

With  all  her  towers,  shall  take. 
And  Fate  the  treasures  of  her  popular  store 
Shall  sack,  the  walls  before. 
0,  may  no  wrath  divine  this  curb  of  iron 
With  ominous  gloom  environ,  135 

Forged  by  our  host  Troy's  haughty  neck  to  bend  ! 
For  Artemis  divine 

Hateth  Zeus'  winged  hounds,  that  so  did  rend 
The  hare  with  all  her  line. 
Mournfully,  mournfully  sing  ;  but  may  the  good  prevail.  HO 


AGAMEMNON.  87 

Epode. 

"  So  tender  is  that  Goddess  fair 
To  savage  lion's  youngling  brood, 
And  all  the  whelps  that  whine  for  food, 
In  sylvan  lair. 

Therefore  seek  we  omens  good  145 

In  the  eagles'  meal  of  blood. 
In  the  vision  of  those  royal  birds 
Signs  were  twain,  of  weal  and  woe. 
Thence  call  I  on  protecting  Paian, 
That  no  gales  he  let  to  blow  150 

To  weatherbind  our  fleets  with  angry  surge, 
And  haply  urge 

Another  feast,  unfestive  and  unholy, 
Parent  of  kindred  strife,  revering  not 
The  lord  espoused  of  the  wedded  lot.  155 

For  fearful  retribution  waits, 
Treason  within  the  palace-gates, 
And  crime  begetting  crime." 
Such  were  the  fates,  which,  in  appalling  words, 
Blended  with  omens  bright  and  true,  160 

Old  Kalchas  from  the  wayside  eagles  drew. 
Therefore,  in  answering  strain, 
Mournfully,  mournfully  sing;  but  may  the  good  prevail. 

Strophe  i. 

JT  is  Zeus,  —  whoe'er  he  be,  if  so 

To  be  invoked  he  love,  165 

So  I  do  him  invoke, — 


88  AGAMEMNON. 

For  I  have  none  to  whom  to  pray, 

Considering  all  things  duly, 

Save  Zeus ;  if  it  be  given  in  very  sooth  and  truly 

To  cast  this  heavy  load  away, 

Of  vain  but  anxious  woe. 

Antistrophe  i. 

For  lie  who  was,  in  days  of  old, 

So  mighty  and  so  great 

In  his  unconquered  state, 

Can  nothing  say,  —  he  is  no  more.  l?5 

And  He,  the  next  in  glory, 

His  conqueror  hath  met,  and  so  is  told  his  story. 

But  who  with  paeans  Zeus  adore 

Their  hearts'  desire  shall  hold. 

Strophe  n. 

'T  is  Zeus  who  forces  mortals  to  be  wise,  180 

And  makes  the  lore  of  truth  to  rise 

From  pain's  soul-searching  trial. 

For  e'en  in  slumber  on  the  guilty  heart 

Conscience  will  drip,  and  wisdom  start, 

In  spite  the  soul's  denial.  is"> 

Yea !  of  the  Gods,  who  sit  on  scats  sublime, 

The  very  grace  acts  forcefully  sometime. 

Antistrophe  n. 

The  eldest  leader  of  the  Achaian  ships 

No  prophet  blamed  with  angry  lips, 

But  bowed  to  his  dark  fate  sadly,  190 

What  time  the  Achaian  army  day  by  day 


AGAMEMNON.     •  89 

Upon  the  refluent  sea-banks  lay 

Of  Aulis,  murmuring  madly  ; 

For  they  did  pine  old  Chalcis'  straits  within, 

Famished  and  wind-bound  for  their  monarch's  sin.        195 

Strophe  in. 

When  the  gales  from  northward  blowing 
Where  the  Strymon  cold  is  flowing, 
Bearing  on  their  angry  way 
Famine  fierce  and  foul  delay, 

Drifting  sailors  o'er  the  main,  200 

Ships  and  anchors  madly  tearing, 
Long  and  reckless  and  unsparing, 
Wasted  all  the  flower  of  Greece 
Weatherbound  in  weary  peace,  — 

When  the  prophet  shrieked  aloud  205 

To  the  leaders  of  the  crowd, 
A  remedy  more  dreadful  naming 
Than  the  long  and  bitter  blast, 
Artemis'  fell  wrath  proclaiming, 
That  the  sons  of  Atreus  twain  210 

* 

Dashed  their  sceptres  in  the  dust, 
Nor  their  tears  could  then  restrain. 

Antistrophe  in. 

Then  the  elder  monarch  loudly 
Thus  outspake,  though  nothing  proudly:  — 
"Hard  the  fate  to  disobey.  215 

Hard,  if  I  my  child  must  slay, 
Household  gem,  the  shrines  before, 


90 


AGAMEMNON. 


Hands  paternal  redly  telling 

Of  the  virgin's  life-blood  welling. 

What  is  here  apart  from  woe  ?  o20 

How  can  I  a  traitor  go 

From  this  boldly-banded  host, 

Pining  on  this  cursed  coast? 

For  they  the  storm-appeasing  slaughter 

As  a  lawful  boon  may  crave.  225 

They  the  life-blood  of  my  daughter 

Rightfully  may  thirst  to  pour. 

Be  it  then  for  weal.     And  may 

Artemis  be  wroth  no  more." 

Strophe  iv. 

But  when  he  had  bowed  to  the  yoke  of  fate,  230 

Outbreathing  from  his  soul 
Altered  resolves,  accursed, 
Impious,  unholy,  then 
He  nerved  his  wavering  spirit  straight 
All  things  to  dare  and  do.  235 

For  frenzy  sprung  from  ill  deeds  wrought  of  old 
Revives,  base  counsellor,  and  makes  men  bold 
To  crimes  unheard  and  new. 
Therefore  he  dared  his  child  to  immolate, 
The  victim-fee  of  wife-avenging  war  240 

And  prelude  of  the  navy's  roar. 

Antistrophe  iv. 

Her  piteous  cries  to  a  father's  ear, 
Her  spotless  maidenhood, 


AGAMEMNON.  91 

And  youthful  charms,  at  nought 

They  set,  chiefs  war-athirst ;  245 

And,  the  prayer  o'er,  that  father  dear 

Bespake  the  priestly  rout, 

Downcast  in  all  her  soul,  to  lift  her  high, 

Raised  like  a  kid  on  the  altar-stone  to  die, 

Swathed  with  her  robes  about,  250 

And  gag  with  speechless  force  of  curbs  severe 

Her  lips  love-breathing,  that  they  find  no  tongue 

Cursing  her  house  the  rites  among. 

Strophe  v. 

Then,  pouring  o'er  the  plain  her  golden  blood, 
Fair  as  a  pictured  maid  in  beauty's  prime,  255 

She  pierced  each  sacrificer's  heart 
With  pity's  dearest  dart, 
Shot  from  her  sadly-supplicating  eye, 
Striving  to  speak,  —  as  oft  at  banquets  high, 
In  the  guest-chambers  of  her  father's  hall,  260 

She  poured  her  voice  ; 
All  as  she  greeted  with  her  fondest  lays 
Her  dearest  sire's  thrice-honored  happy  days, 
And  bade  his  age  rejoice. 

Ant  i strop  he  v. 

What  thence  befell  I  saw  not,  nor  can  say.  265 

But  not  in  vain  did  Kalchas  riddle  fate. 
But  justice  so  the  scale  doth  turn 
That  the  sufferers  must  learn. 
Let  then  the  future  all  unquestioned  go. 
Since  be  it  must.     And  what  availeth  woe  270 


92  AGAMEMNON. 

Foreboding  ill,  when  with  the  morrow's  ray 

The  end  is  at  hand  ? 

May  all  things,  then,  fall  happy  in  the  end 

That  way  our  honest  wishes  singly  tend, 

"Who  guard  this  Apian  land.  275 

CHORUS. 

Thy  station,  Klytaimncstra,  to  bid  hail, 
Hither  I  ccme.     For  just  it  is  the  wife 
Of  royalty  to  honor,  when  the  throne 
Lacks  its  male  lord.     But  fain  I  am  to  know 
Whether  on  faith  of  happy  news,  or  not,  ^KI 

Thine  altars  blaze,  propitiating  hope 
That  shall  be.     Yet  speak  not,  if  speech  seem  ill. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

From  night,  its  mother,  as  the  saying  goes, 
Fraught  with  glad  tidings  may  the  morn  arise ; 
So  shalt  thou  hear,  excelling  all  thine  hope,  285 

High  news,  how  Argive  spears  Troy  town  have  won. 

CHORUS. 
What  sayest  ?    Through  lack  of  faith  it  hath  fled  mine  ear. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
The  Achaians  Troy  have  taken.     Speak  I  clear? 

CHORUS. 
Joy  wins  my  heart,  and  prompts  the  honest  tear. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Thine  eye  bears  witness  to  thy  bosom's  truth.  290 

CHORUS. 
Hast  thou  sure  tokens  that  thy  words  are  sooth? 


AGAMEMNON. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Sure  tokens ;  if  some  God  deceive  me  not. 

CHORUS. 
Have  flattering  dreams  tins  hopeful  trust  begot  ? 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
I  trust  not,  I,  the  thought  of  a  sleeping  mind. 

CHORUS. 
Dost  then  believe  some  wingless  presage  blind  ?  205 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Am  I  a  girl,  that  thus  my  words  you  rack  ? 

CHORUS. 
When  did  the  Greeks  the  royal  city  sack? 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
I'  the  very  night  whence  springs  yon  dawning  sun. 

CHORUS. 
What  herald  hither  could  so  quickly  run  ? 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Ilephaistos,  forth  from  Ida  sending  light.  300 

Thence  beacon  hitherward  did  beacon  speed 
From  that  fire-signal.     Ida  to  the  steep 
Of  Hermes'  hill  in  Lemnos  ;  from  the  isle 
Zeus'  height  of  Athos  did  in  turn  receive 
The  third  great  bale  of  flame.     The  vigorous  glare      305 
Of  the  fast-journeying  pine-torch  flared  aloft, 
Joy's  harbinger,  to  skim  the  ridgy  sea, 
Sending  its  golden  beams,  even  as  the  sun, 
Up  to  Makistos'  watch-towers.     Nothing  loath 
Did  he,  nor  basely  overcome  by  sleep,  310 


94  AGAMEMNON. 

Perform  his  herald  part.     Afar  the  ray 

Burst  on  Euripos'  stream,  its  beaconed  news 

Telling  the  watchers  on  Mcssapion  high. 

They  blazed  in  turn,  and  sent  the  tidings  on, 

Kindling  with  ruddy  flame  the  heather  gray.  315 

Thence,  nought  obscured,  went  up  the  mighty  glow, 

And,  like  the  smiling  moon,  Asopos'  plain 

O'erleaped,  and  on  Kithairon's  rock  awoke 

Another  pile  of  telegraphic  fire. 

Nor  did  the  watchmen  there,  with  niggard  hand,         320 

Deny  the  torch,  that  blazed  most  bright  of  all. 

Athwart  the  lake  Gorgopis  shot  the  gleam, 

Stirring  the  guards  on  Aigiplanctos'  hill, 

Lest  it  should  fail  to  shine,  the  appointed  blaze. 

Kindled  with  generous  zeal,  they  sent  aloft  325 

The  mighty  beard  of  flame,  that  streamed  so  high 

To  flash  beyond  the  towering  heights  which  guard 

The  gulf  Saronic.     Thence  it  shot,  —  it  reached 

Arachnes'  cliff,  the  station  next  our  town  ; 

Down  darting  thence  to  the  Atreides*  roof,  330 

Child  of  that  fire  which  dawned  on  Ida's  hill. 

Such  was  the  order  of  the  beaconed  lights 

Arranged  before,  and  in  succession  swift 

Each  after  each  fulfilled.     The  first  and  last 

I'  the  glittering  race  is  victor.     This  the  proof,  335 

The  signal  which  I  tell  ye,  told  to  me 

By  my  good  lord  from  Troy. 

CHORUS. 

To  the  Gods  anon 


AGAMEMNON.  95 

My  voice  I  '11  raise,  0  woman !     Now  to  hear 

Thy  words,  and  marvel  to  the  end,  I  thirst. 

Please  you  relate,  from  first  to  last,  the  tale.  340 

KLYTAIMNESTKA. 

The  Achaians  Troy  have  won  this  very  day. 
A  double  din  i'  the  captured  city  now 
Hoars  dissonant,  I  ween.     Acid  and  oil 
Poured  in  one  vessel  mix  not,  ye  would  say, 
In  amity ;  and  so,  the  diverse  cries  345 

Of  victors  and  of  vanquished  might  ye  hear, 
Confused,  not  blent,  of  triumph  or  of  woe. 
For  these,  upon  the  prostrate  bodies  lying 
Of  husbands,  brethren,  or  of  parents  old, 
"With  piteous  wail  from  throats  no  longer  free  350 

Lament  the  fate  of  friends  most  loved  of  all. 
But  those  the  rugged  toil  of  the  nightly  fray 
Hath  set  keen-hungered  to  such  hasty  meat 
As  the  city  proffers,  in  no  ordered  ranks 
Marshalled  to  banquet,  but  as  each  hath  drawn  355 

The  lot  of  fortune.     In  the  spear-won  halls 
Of  Troy  they  revel,  —  from  untented  frosts 
Hare  change,  and  dews  of  heaven.     But  well,  I  trow, 
And  all  unguarded,  will  they  sleep  to-night. 
And  if  the  Gods  who  guard  the  captured  land  360 

They  duly  honor,  and  their  seats  divine, 
Not  easily  shall  they  who  took  be  ta'en. 
Then  may  the  host  no  thought  so  ill  befall 
To  crave  forbidden  things,  by  victory 


96  AGAMEMNON. 

Vanquished.     For  lo  !  or  ere  they  may  cry  "  Won  !  "     365 

The  homeward  half  of  the  race  is  yet  to  run. 

But  should  the  army  hated  of  the  Gods 

Turn  hither,  though  no  present  plague  be  sent, 

It  may  yet  rue  the  vengeance  of  the  slain 

Unsleeping.     From  a  woman  hear  ye  this  ;  370 

May  the  good  prevail,  —  unmingled,  nought  but  good. 

Had  I  my  choice  of  all,  so  choose  I  would. 

CHORUS. 

Kindly,  as  with  the  wisdom  of  a  man, 
Woman,  thou  sayest.     And  I  on  certain  faith 
Of  these  thy  tidings  will  the  Gods  adore.  375 

For  triumph  worthy  of  the  toil  is  won. 

0  Zeus,  mighty  monarch,  0  Night,  our  befriender, 
And  winner  of  glory  sublime, 

Who  over  Troy  towers,  in  thy  darkest  of  hours, 

Didst  cast  the  dread  net,  that  nor  little  nor  great,      380 

Young  nor  aged,  should  shun 

The  fetters  of  slavery,  sentence  of  fate, 

Great  Zeus,  I  adore  thee !    God  of  guests,  low  before  thee 

1  bow,  for  that  this  thou  hast  done  ; 

Who  didst  bend,  long  ago,  against  Paris  thy  bow,       385 
That,  the  stars  not  overshooting,  in  fulness  of  time, 
Thy  shaft  to  the  target  should  go. 
Strophe  i. 

They  are  struck  by  Zeus.     'T  is  meet 

Thus  to  deem  and  to  proclaim. 

He  decreed,  and  he  hath  done.  390 


AGAMEMNON.  97 

One  said  the  Gods  are  all  too  great 

For  mortal  men  to  care, 

By  whom  of  holiest  things  the  grace 

Defiled  is.     But  he  was  base. 

And  they  in  sooth  have  slain  the  race  395 

Of  sires,  who  breathed  the  breath  of  war  too  strong 

For  justice,  when  their  halls  abounded 

With  bliss  immoderate. 

Then  be  my  lot  secure  from  woe, 

That  I  an  equal  mind  may  sway,  400 

Prepared  for  either  fate. 

Since  wealth  is  not  a  castled  wall, 

To  save  the  man  of  wrong, 

Who  spurns  at  virtue's  altar-stone, 

From  swift  and  sudden  fall.  405 

Antistrophe  i. 

Intolerable  child  of  fate, 

Fell  persuasion  crime  compels, 

Fore-counsellor;  and  help  is  none. 

Guilt  ne'er  is  hid,  but  shineth  clear, 

A  hideous-glaring  light.  410 

And  like  to  brass,  its  worth  denied, 

The  sinner,  on  the  touchstone  tried, 

Is  blackened,  and  not  purified. 

For  he,  a  boy,  pursues  the  wild  bird's  wing, 

And  bringeth  on  his  city  vengeance.  415 

His  prayer  no  God  will  hear, 

But,  in  revenge  of  his  ill  deed, 

9 


98  AGAMEMNON. 

The  foul  transgressor  taketh  off 

Short  in  his  mid  career. 

So  Paris,  when  he  came  in  evil  clay  420 

To  visit  Sparta's  king, 

His  hospitable  board  disgraced, 

And  stole  his  bride  away. 

Strophe  n. 

Swiftly  through  the  gates  she  came, 

Having  done  the  deed  of  shame  ;  425 

Left  her  citizens  behind  her, 

Hotly  hurrying  to  and  fro, 

Snatching  buckler,  spear,  and  bow, 

Launching  galleys  to  the  shore, 

Stretching  to  the  toilsome  oar.  430 

But  to  Ilion  ruin  led, 

The  dowry  of  her  bridal  bed. 

Then  the  prophets  wild  and  wide 

Through  the  palace  made  their  moan. 

"Woe  for  the  house!  the  house  1"  they  cried;  435 

"  Woe  for  the  bed,  the  marriage  bed  !  the  places 

Where  hallowed  love  hath  left  its  holy  traces !  " 

Mute,  dishonored,  not  reviling, 

He  is  there  alone. 

Nor  can  he  his  eyes  believe,  440 

That  see  her  lost  for  ever. 

Worn  away  by  weary  yearning 

After  her  beyond  the  main, 

Ghost-like  through  his  house  he  stalks. 


AGAMEMNON.  99 

Of  the  statues  in  his  hall  445 

All  the  loveliness  is  lost 

To  the  hero  passion-tost ; 

For  aye  his  empty  eyes  are  turning 

Toward  her  he  ne'er  shall  see  again, 

And  all  beauty  else  is  vain.  450 

Antistrophe  n. 

Ever  o'er  his  couch  at  night 
Hover  empty  visions  bright, 
Fitful  pleasures  round  him  flinging, 
Dreams  of  happy-seeming  show, 

Which  shall  leave  him  waking  woe.  455 

For  the  joys  we  see  in  sleep 
Ever  leave  us  prone  to  weep, 
When  the  visions  fleet  away, 
With  fleeting  sleep,  at  dawn  of  day, 
Gliding  through  our  hands,  outspread  460 

To  enfold  them  as  they  flee. 
Around  the  hearth,  and  o'er  the  bed, 
Such  are  the  woes,  and  worse, 
Which  brooding  sit.     But  sorrow  darkly  swelling 
From  their  transgression  glooms  o'er  every  dwelling,  465 
Since  they  fled  the  shores  of  Hellas 
O'er  the  sounding  sea. 
Many  woes  there  are,  the  heart 
Which  pierce  with  endless  anguish. 
Well  can  each  one  know  and  number  470 

Those,  who  left  him  to  deplore, 


100  AGAMEMNON. 

When  he  sent  them  forth  to  war. 
But  for  heroes  brave  and  tall, 
Rushing  to  the  battle  plain, 

This  alone  comes  home  again, —  475 

A  little  dust  of  those  who  slumber, 
A  little  of  the  arms  they  wore, 
Carried  back  to  each  one's  door. 
Strophe  in. 

When  Ares,  bartering  blood  for  gold, 
Who  holds  the  scale  i'  the  strife  of  spears,  480 

Sends  from  the  Trojan  funeral  fires 
Sad  dust  bewailed  with  bitter  tears, 
Heaping  the  urns,  which  each  a  hero  hold, 
With  mighty  ashes  cold ; 

While  here  the  mourners  groan,  485 

Reciting  each  the  virtues  of  his  own, 
Deploring  him,  for  skill  in  battle  shown, 
And  him,  for  that  he  nobly  died 
In  rescuing  another's  bride. 

In  sullen  silence  murmur  these,  490 

And  stormy  sorrows  still  increase, 
Cursing  the  vengeance  of  the  Atreides. 
But  where  they  fell,  the  battled  wall  around, 
Those  that  so  comely  were  in  Trojan  ground 
Their  lodgments  hold ;  but  o'er  each  holder's  head      495 
Heavy  and  deep  the  hostile  earth  is  spread. 

Antistrophe  HI. 

Bitter  and  fierce  the  civic  roar 


AGAMEMNON.  101 

Demands  the  debt  of  those  who  fell 

Upholders  of  the  popular  doom. 

And  sadly  doth  my  spirit  dwell  500 

On  things  by  blackest  darkness  covered  o'er, 

That  yet  may  smite  us  sore. 

The  spirits  of  the  slain 

Make  keen  espials  ;  and  the  dismal  train 

Of  furies  surely  smite  to  earth  again  505 

Him  who  hath  grown  unjustly  great, 

By  fortune  raised  to  lawless  state. 

And  strength  or  glory  there  is  none 

To  those  who  lie  in  dust  o'erthrown ; 

And  peril  hunts  the  bliss  too  broadly  blown.  510 

Right  in  his  eyes  Zeus'  thunderbolt  is  cast 

To  blast  it.     Grant  me,  then,  the  moderate  lot. 

Nor  let  me  conqueror  of  kingdoms  be, 

Nor  to  a  master  bend  the  captive  knee. 

»  Epode, 

Swift  through  the  city  speeds  the  voice  of  glee,          5!5 

From  glad  fire-tidings  born ;  —  if  troth  to  see 

Who  knows,  or  of  the  Gods  a  cheat  divine  ? 

For  who  so  childlike,  or  bereft  of  mind, 

As  first  to  glad  his  heart  at  new-lit  shine 

Of  beacon-flames,  then  fall  to  grief  again  520 

For  altered  tidings  ?     'T  is  the  woman's  trick 

To  leap  at  joy,  or  ere  the  cause  she  see. 

For  female  souls  are  led  right  trustingly 

To  swift  conclusion,  but  the  fame  that  springs 


102 


AGAMEMNON. 


From  woman's  tongue  no  lasting  honor  brings.  535 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Soon  shall  we  know  whether  it  tell  us  true, 
This  swift-succeeding  blaze  of  beacon-fires 
And  light-dispensing  lamps,  or  like  a  dream 
With  blissful  tidings  come  our  souls  to  cheat. 
For  lo!  with  olive-branches  shadowed  o'er,  530 

From  the  sea-beach  a  herald,  —  so  the  dust, 
Clay's  thirsty  sister,  tells  me,— who  shall  speak 
No  voiceless  tidings,  nor  with  empty  smoke 
Of  mountain-kindled  fires  relate  his  tale, 
But  either  with  his  words  a  mightier  joy  535 

Impart,  or —    But  away  with  ominous  fear, 
And,  0,  may  bright  success  bright  wishes  cheer ! 

CHORUS. 

May  he  who  prays  aught  else  for  this  our  state 
Reap  to  himself  the  harvest  of  his  hate. 

TALTHYBIOS,  the  herald,  enters  from  the  right,  decorated  with  olive-loughs,  as 
from  the  sea-shore,  just  arrived  from  Troy. 

HERALD. 

0  natal  continent  of  Argive  earth,  540 

Once  more  I  tread  thce,  by  this  ten-year  sun 
Illumined,  — many  hopes  denied,  but  this 
Blissfully  granted ;  for  I  dared  not  pray 
So  small  a  share  of  Argive  soil  to  hold, 
As  should  my  bones  o'erlay.     Hail,  mother  earth !       545 
Hail,  holy  sunshine !  and  thou,  highest  Zeus, 
Our  country's  God  !  and  thou,  who  ne'er  at  us 


AGAMEMNON.  103 

Shalt  aim  thy  shafts  immortal,  Pythian  king  ! 

Hostile  enough  on  red  Scamander's  marge 

Wert  thou.      Henceforth  our  friend  and  Saviour  be,    550 

Royal  Apollo.     Thee,  and  all  the  Gods, 

Who  judge  our  sacred  contests,  I  invoke  ; 

And  mine  own  patron,  Hermes,  herald  God, 

Glory  of  heralds.     And  ye,  heroes  old, 

Who  sent  us  forth  to  battle,  friendly  now,  555 

Spared  by  the  ruthless  spear,  receive  our  host. 

0  royal  palaces,  roofs  well  beloved, 

And  solemn  altars,  and  sun-facing  Gods, 

If  e'er  before,  now  with  propitious  eyes 

Receive  the  king  long  absent !     For  he  comes,  560 

Great  Agamemnon,  bringing  to  you  light 

In  darkness,  and  to  all  His  people  joy. 

Salute  him  fairly,  then,  as  doth  beseem, 

Who  with  the  ploughshare  of  avenging  Zeus 

Razed  the  foundation  of  Troy  town,  that  all  565 

Her  altars  prostrate  are,  and  holy  shrines,  — 

Her  very  seed  uprooted  from  the  soil. 

Thus  comes  he  homeward,  such  a  yoke  imposed 

On  downfallen  Troy,  the  elder  AtreVd  king, 

The  happy  mortal  most  of  mortal  men  570 

Now  living  worth  renown.     For  now  no  more 

Can  Paris  or  his  town  their  doing  boast 

More  than  their  suffering.     Right  dearly  he 

The  judgment  of  his  violent  theft  did  owe  ; 

So  lost  his  captive  ;  and  with  all  his  kin  575 


104  AGAMEMNON. 

Most  utterly  destroyed  his  father's  house. 
For  twofold  crimes  was  twofold  vengeance  due 
By  Priam's  race,  and  they  have  paid  it  through. 

CHORUS. 
Hail !  from  the  host  herald  of  glorious  strife. 

HERALD. 
So  blest  am  I,  I  seek  no  longer  life.  530 

CHORUS. 
Hath  yearning  for  thy  country  stirred  thy  soul  ? 

HERALD. 
That  tears  of  rapture  down  my  visage  roll. 

CHORUS. 
Blest  thy  disease,  and  blest  its  symptoms  too. 

HERALD. 
How  mean  thy  words?     Teach  me  their  import  true. 

CHORUS. 
The  love  of  those  who  thee  did  love  in  turn.  535 

HERALD. 
And  did  the  land  the  love  of  the  host  return  ? 

CHORUS. 
So  well,  that  oft  our  secret  souls  did  groan. 

HERALD. 
Why  for  the  absent  army  made  ye  moan  ? 

CHORUS. 
Silence  I  know  best  cure  for  bitterest  sting. 

HERALD. 
Feared  you  some  ill,  i'  the  absence  of  the  king?         590 

CHORUS. 
So,  that  to  die  full  oft  I  should  rejoice. 


AGAMEMNON.  105 

HERALD. 

Pass  that ;  for  all  is  well.     I'  the  lapse  of  years, 
Some  happy  things  each  mortal  must  befall, 
And  some  that  grieve  him.     For,  save  God  alone, 
Who  to  the  end  of  time  no  grief  hath  known?  595 

For  should  I  name  our  labors  on  the  deep, 
Storm-tossings,  landings  difficult  and  rare, — 
For  when  by  day  or  night  did  such  things  cease, 
Or  we  cease  mourning  them  ?  —  nor  less  by  land 
Our  sufferings,  couched  beneath  the  enemy's  wall,       600 
Wasted  by  rains  from  heaven,  and  meadow-dews, 
Moulding  our  raiment,  elfing  all  our  hair 
In  savage  knots,  beast-like  ;  or  should  I  tell 
Of  piercing  winter,  froze  with  Ida's  snow 
Intolerable,  that  the  very  birds  of  air  605 

Perished,  —  of  scorching  summer,  when  the  sea 
Sank  faint  and  breezeless  in  its  noonday  bed, 
And  slept  unruffled  —    Yet  why  sorrow  now  ? 
The  suffering  is  o'erpast ;  and  o'erpast,  too, 
For  those  who  sleep  in  death,  to  wake  again,  610 

Or  reck  of  aught  for  ever.     Wherefore  count 
The  numbers  perished,  we  who  yet  survive, 
Or  mourn  the  spites  of  fortune  ?     Rather  I 
Will  triumph  in  what  blessings  we  still  have. 
For  we,  the  remnant  of  this  Argive  host,  615 

Whate'er  our  loss,  have  won  the  conquering  game. 
So  may  we  boast,  beneath  the  sun  to-day, 
We  who  have  earth  and  ocean  overflown, 


106  AGAMEMNON. 

How,  conquerors  of  Troy,  the  Achaian  host 

Have  nailed  i'  the  temples  captive  spoil  untold,  620 

To  Hellas'  Gods  a  votive  honor  old. 

This  heard,  the  state  her  generals  should  own 

With  honor ;  and  with  honor  duly  shown 

The  grace  of  Zeus  adore,  by  which  they  won. 

You  have  my  news.     With  this  my  tale  is  done.         625 

CHORUS. 

Beaten  in  words  myself  I  not  deny. 
To  learn  good  lore  is  youthful  e'en  in  age. 
Behooves  the  palace  this  to  have  in  care, 
Behooves  the  queen;  and  we  the  joy  will  share. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Already  have  I  shrieked  aloud  for  glee,  630 

When  first  the  nightly  messenger  of  fire 
Came  with  glad  tidings,  how  that  Troy  was  ta'en. 
Then  mocking  me  spake  one,  "  So  fond  art  thou 
To  deem  Troy  taken,  cheated  by  a  blaze  ?  " 
And  sneered  another,  "  'T  is  a  woman's  trick  635 

To  jump  and  joy  for  nothing."     Thus  jeered  they. 
But  I,  I  sacrificed  ;  and  sent  aloft 
The  woman's  shout  of  joy  the  city  round, 
Hymning  the  Gods  in  their  high  seats,  and  fed 
With  holiest  odors  sweet  the  altar-flame.  640 

And  now,  I  prithee,  what  wouldst  have  me  say  ? 
From  mine  own  monarch  I  shall  learn  the  whole. 
And  now  to  meet  him,  as  he  would  be  met, 
I  reverently  hasten.     What  can  be 


AGAMEMNON.  107 

More  sweeter  to  a  loving  wife  than  this, —  645 

The  gates  to  open,  when  her  lord  comes  home, 

Saved  by  his  God,  from  battle  ?     Tell  my  lord 

He  hasten  hither,  well  beloved  of  the  state. 

A  faithful  wife,  I  wot,  come  when  he  may, 

He  '11  find  i'  the  house,  e'en  as  he  left  her  there,  —       650 

A  watch-dog,  true  to  him,  fierce  to  his  foes, 

And  so  in  all  things  trusty ;  —  not  a  seal, 

In  all  these  years,  have  I  broken ;  nor,  in  truth, 

Pleasure  with  other  men,  or  ill  report, 

More  than  brass  knows  of  temper,  have  I  known.        655 

HERALD. 

Such  boast  as  this,  an  if  the  boast  be  true, 
The  noblest  woman  nothing  needs  to  rue. 

CHORUS. 

So  hath  she  spoken,  that  her  words  right  clear, 
And  easy  to  be  marked,  have  filled  thine  ear. 
But  tell  me,  Herald,  what  I  fain  would  know.  660 

Comes  Menelaos  with  the  homeward  host 
Safe  from  the  war,  his  country's  pride  and  boast  ? 

HERALD. 

Though  happy  news  to  joy  you  I  should  feign, 
Ere  long  that  joy  would  turn  to  grief  again. 

CHORUS. 

But  I  would  have  you  speak  glad  things  and  true      665 
At  once.     Dissevered,  they  are  ill  to  view. 

HERALD. 
Lost  is  the  hero,  lost  his  galley  too, 


108  AGAMEMNON. 

From  the  Argive  fleet.     My  speech,  though  sad,  is  true. 

CHORUS. 

Did  he  steer  openly  from  Ilion's  plain, 
Or  from  the  fleet  was  storm-tost  on  the  main?  670 

HERALD. 

E'en  as  an  archer  good,  hast  shot  i'  the  white  ; 
This  mighty  horror  thou  hast  guessed  aright. 

CHORUS. 

What  tidings  of  his  fate,  alive  or  dead, 
Among  the  mariners  of  the  host  were  spread  ? 

HERALD. 

None  speak  his  fate,  for  it  is  known  to  none,  675 

Unless  to  nature's  nurturer,  the  Sun. 

CHORUS. 

Sayest  thou  the  storm  by  ireful  demons  sent 
O'erhung  the  fleet,  till  all  its  rage  was  spent? 

HERALD. 

It  is  not  meet  a  fortunate  day  to  mar 
With  tongue  ill-omened.     Reverence  to  the  Gods         680 
Forbids  it.     But  whene'er,  with  brow  of  gloom, 
Disastrous  tidings  from  a  downfallen  host 
A  herald  bears  to  the  state,  —  that  one  dread  wound 
Hath  sapped  the  public  weal ;  that  many  a  house 
Hath  many  a  hero  lost,  by  that  twin  scourge,  685 

Of  Ares  well  beloved,  fire  and  steel, 
A  bloody  pair,  a  doubly-cleaving  fate,  — 
When  such  the  tidings  dread  which  load  him  down, 
Then  let  him  chant  the  Furies'  fatal  strain. 


AGAMEMNON.  1Q9 

But  if,  blithe  messenger,  blithe  news  he  bring  690 

Of  prosperous  matters  to  a  joyous  town, 

How  can  I  blend  good  things  with  ill,  to  say 

That  the  storm  smote  the  Greeks  unsent  of  God  ? 

For  the  two,  strong  foes  of  old,  did  then  conjure, 

Water  and  fire,  and  conjuration  kept  695 

Faithful,  destroying  the  poor  Argive  fleet. 

At  dead  of  night  the  billowy  wrath  awoke, 

For  ship  on  ship  the  Thracian  tempest  drave 

In  dire  collision,  that,  with  butting  beaks 

By  the  winds'  hurly  and  the  waves'  uproar,  700 

They  perished  mutual,  like  rams  that  fight, 

Ill-shepherded.     But  when  the  cheering  light 

Of  the  great  sun  went  up,  we  saw  the  waves 

Of  that  2Egean  Sea  with  corpses  cold 

Of  heroes  blossoming,  and  wrecks  o'  the  fleet.  705 

But  us  and  our  good  ship,  uninjured  all, 

Some  God,  or  stole  from  fate,  or  saved  by  prayer, 

Guiding  the  helm,  —  for  man  could  save  us  not. 

But  Fortune  sat  upon  our  stern,  sublime, 

A  saviour,  that  we  foundered  not  i'  the  surge,  710 

Nor  struck  upon  the  reefs  of  the  rock-bound  coast ; 

But  rescued  from  the  rage  of  that  sea-hell 

Into  clear  daylight,  Fortune  trusting  not, 

We  fed  with  deepest  thought  our  sorrows  new, 

Mourning  the  shattered  host,  like  ashes  strewn.  715 

And  if  of  these  a  remnant  yet  survive, 

They  deem  us  perished,  —  wherefore  should  they  not, 


10 


AGAMEMNON. 


When  we  so  deem  of  them  ?     But  good  betide, 

If  good  may  be.     And  Menelaos  first 

Hope  to  behold  arriving,  since,  I  ween,  720 

If  any  sunbeam  look  on  him  alive, 

And  blest  with  sight,  good  hope  there  still  may  be 

Of  his  home-coming  safe,  by  Zeus'  consent, 

Who  wills  not  all  this  royal  race  to  blast. 

Thou  hearest  this.     'T  is  truth  from  first  to  last.         725 


Here  the  HERALD  leaves  the  stage  by  the  right  side-entrance,  as  returning  to  the 
sea-shore  to  await  the  arrival  of  AGAMEMNON,  and  to  bear  him  the  message 
of  KLYTAIMNESTRA,  bidding  him  hail 

KLYTAIMNESTRA,  if  she  have  not  already  retired  at  the  close  of  her  last  speech, 
v.  655,  also  retires  into  the  palace  by  the  central  entrance  of  the  back  scene,  as 
about  to  prepare  for  the  reception  of  her  lord. 

The  CHORUS  are  now  left  alone,  in  possession  of  the  stage,  for  the  first  time 
since  their  entrance;  and  this  marks  the  close  of  the  first  division,  or  act,  of 
the  drama,  the  second  commencing  with  the  arrival  of  AGAMEMNON  and 
KASSANDRA,  and  tending  directly  to  the  grand  catastrophe,  by  which  it  is 
concluded  on  the  departure  of  KASSANDRA  from  the  scene,  at  v.  1377. 

CHORUS. 
Strophe  I. 

Who  was  it  ?     Who,  that  named  of  yore, 

And  with  a  name  so  true, — 

Was  it  not  He  whom  none  may  view, 

Who  sees  each  hidden  secret  through, 

And  reads  the  end  the  cause  before,  —  730 

Helen  strife-breeder,  spear-wed  wife  ? 

Who,  ships,  men,  realms,  to  hell  devoting, 

Sailed  from  her  softly-curtained  bower, 

Before  the  breath  of  giant  zephyr  floating  ; 

While,  chasing  keen  their  trackless  oars,  735 


AGAMEMNON.  Ill 

Which  fled  to  Simois'  leafy  shores, 
Stanch  to  pursue  their  game, 
Many,  through  bloody  strife, 
Shield-bearing  hunters  came. 

Antistrophe  i. 

'T  was  wrath  divine,  which  sent  to  Troy  740 

That  well-named  curse  abhorred, 
To  avenge  the  shame  of  the  festive  board, 
And  Zeus',  the  holy  hearth-stone's  lord, 
In  time,  on  that  adulterous  boy, 

And  all  the  hymeneal  crowd,  745 

Who  prized  that  nuptial  strain  unduly, 
Which  echoed  then  the  streets  along. 
But  Priam's  ancient  city  learned  too  truly, 
In  altered  mood,  a  sadder  strain, 

Calling  accursed  the  bridal  train,  750 

And  Paris  of  the  ill-omened  bed, 
Or  ere  she  wept  aloud 
Her  sons  in  slaughter  red. 

Strophe  n. 

Thus  men  the  lion's  whelp  have  fed 

A  weanling  in  their  houses  dread,  755 

Still  for  his  dug-drawn  parent  pining, 

Tame  in  the  prelude  of  his  life, 

Playful  and  innocent  of  strife, 

Loved  of  the  old,  to  the  children  mild, 

And  oft,  as  if  himself  a  child,  760 

Nursed  in  fond  arms,  with  visage  bland, 


112  AGAMEMNON. 

Fawning  upon  the  friendly  hand 
That  gives  him  bread. 

Antistrophe  n. 

But  let  time  travel,  and  in  sooth 

You  '11  find  his  native  instincts  truth.  765 

In  guerdon  of  his  kind  upbringing, 
Through  reeking  sheepfolds  hear  him  roar, 
Defiling  all  the  house  with  gore, 
A  ravening,  unbidden  guest, 

Invincible  domestic  pest  ;  770 

Fell  priest,  by  the  God  in  anger  sent, 
To  be  the  house's  punishment 
Which  fed  his  youth. 

Strophe  m. 

So  I  would  say  to  Ilion's  gate 

She  came,  a  spirit  of  a  breezeless  culm,  rro 

An  innocent  gem  of  wealthy  state, 
A  tender  dart  of  sidelong  eyes, 
Soft  love's  soul-piercing  flower. 
But  she  had  gone  astray, 

And  woe  was  the  worth  of  her  bridal  day  !  780 

To  the  sons  of  Priam  a  curse  she  came, 
A  fury  revengeful,  in  the  guise 
Of  a  fair  wedded  dame. 
With  woe  to  their  city,  and  woe  to  their  kin, 
'T  was  Zeus,  the  guest-guardian,  who  sent  her  in.       785 

Antistrophe  in. 

There  is  an  ancient  saw,  I  know, 


AGAMEMNON.  113 

That  perfect  bliss  of  man  not  childless  dies, 

But  that  the  blackest  crops  of  woe, 

The  house  overrunning  wild  and  dread, 

From  fairest  fortunes  rise.  790 

But  this  I  credit  not, 

Though  others  believe  it.     For  guilt  is  begot 

Upon  olden  guilt,  and  the  child  must  be 

E'en  as  the  first  o'  the  stock  was  bred 

Of  the  old  parent  tree.  795 

But  the  house  that  is  just  and  free  from  sin, 

Its  fate  shall  breed  blessings  in  and  in. 

Strophe  iv. 

Old  crime  is  wont  new  crime  to  generate 
Of  the  ill  deeds  of  men, 

When  comes  the  appointed  day  of  fate  ;  800 

Or  now  or  then. 
And  lo  !   the  last  begets  again 
Unholy  hatred,  born  anew, 
A  daring  fiend  invincible, 

For  ever  in  the  house  to  dwell,  S05 

Black  as  its  parent's  hue. 

Antistrophe  iv. 

But  Justice  still  in  smoky  mansions  vile., 
Though  they  be  near  the  dust, 
Shines  out,  illuming  with  her  smile 
The  life  o'  the  just.  810 

But  gold  ill-gotten  fly  she  must, 
With  eyes  averted,  and  the  sight 
10  * 


114  AGAMEMNON. 

Of  hands  unclean ;  who  honors  not 

Dishonest  wealth's  unhallowed  lot, 

But  governs  all  aright.  815 

Anapasts. 

Come,  then,  0  king,  over  Troy  victorious, 
Son  of  Atreus  the  glorious, 
How  shall  I  hail  thee,  how  honor  thee  duly, 
Neither  o'ershooting,  nor  falling  below 
Fit  moderation  ?  820 

Many  of  mortals,  o'erstepping  the  mark, 
Honor  the  semblance,  neglecting  the  deed  ; 
Many  are  willing  to  mourn  with  the  loser, 
Few  the  mourners  who  mourn  from  the  heart  ; 
Many  are  willing  to  smile  with  the  winner,  825 

Few  the  smiles  which  their  souls  impart. 
But  he  who  can  shepherd  his  people  truly, 
None  shall  elude  or  escape  his  sight, 
Though  they  may  seem  from  souls  sincere 
To  tender  him  amity  dear.  830 

But  thou,  when  first  in  Helene's  cause 
The  host  didst  summon,  —  I  natter  thee  not,  — 
Wert  accused  as  graceless  and  iron  of  soul, 
Ruling  thy  temper  without  control, 
A  giver  of  daring  to  dying  men,  835 

Where  daring  there  none  should  be. 
But  now  neither  rash  nor  rude  are  we 
To  welcome  whose  success  wTe  see. 
For  time  is  the  test  by  which  it  is  given 


AGAMEMNON.  115 

The  people  to  know  840 

The  worker  of  weal,  or  the  worker  of  woe, 
In  the  ruler  of  the  state. 

AGAMEMNON. 

Mine  Argos  first,  and  her  indigenous  Gods, 
'T  is  meet  I  worship,  who  have  brought  me  home 
Victorious,  and  great  justice  given  to  work  845 

On  Priam's  guilty  town.     For  not  in  doubt, 
Nor  hesitating,  did  they  cast  the  lot  — 
As  who  from  pleadings  learn  the  worth  o*  the  cause  — 
Into  the  bloody  vase,  that  Troy  should  fall, 
With  all  her  sons  ;  while  to  the  opposite  urn,  850 

Untouched  of  the  judge's  hand,  hope  fondly  clung. 
The  smoke  of  her  burning  tells  the  tale  of  Troy. 
The  tempests  of  fate  live  ;  and  ashes  cold 
The  last  rich  breath  of  dying  wealth  exhale. 
For  these  things  to  the  Gods  befits  us  pay  855 

Most  mindful  thanks.     Have  we  not  vengeance  had 
Of  their  dire  schemings  ?     For  a  woman's  sake, 
Hath  not  our  Argive  monster,  foaled  of  a  mare, 
The  bucklered  lion,  sprung  his  fatal  spring, 
Tearing  the  kingly  city  to  the  ground,  860 

What  time  the  Pleiads  set,  and  lapped  his  fill 
Of  royal  blood  Troy's  lordly  towers  within  ? 
Thus  to  the  Gods  I  first ;  —  but  now  to  thee, 
Not  unregardful  of  thy  faith,  I  turn, 
Nor  hide  my  thought,  but  rather  much  approve  865 

Thy  speech.     For  I  do  know  't  is  little  kin 


AGAMEMNON. 

To  men  the  fortunate  man  with  praise  to  greet 

Ungrudging.     For  black  envy,  sitting  i'  the  heart, 

Makes  double  his  disease  who  feels  its  sting,  — 

Twice  sorrowing,  for  the  ills  himself  doth  owe,  870 

And  for  the  joys  which  make  his  neighbour  glad. 

I  speak  that  I  do  know.     For  I  have  proved 

All  those,  who  swore  them  trustiest  of  the  true, 

Friendship's  mere  mirror,  shadow  of  a  shade. 

For  of  them  all,  he  who  unwilling  went,  875 

Only  Odysseus,  pulled  i'  the  traces  right. 

This,  whether  he  be  living  or  is  dead, 

I  '11  say  of  him.     But  now  to  council  straight 

For  the  state's  weal,  and  honoring  of  the  Gods, 

In  popular  session ;  that  what  now  well  is  880 

Well  to  continue  we  may  best  assay, 

And  wherein  cure  is  needed,  or  by  knife 

Or  pharmacy  persuasive,  cure  we  may. 

Now  to  my  house  returning,  and  my  hearth, 

The  house's  shrine,  I  lift  my  hand  to  the  Gods          885 

Who  sent  me  forth,  and  now  have  brought  me  home. 

And  may  the  victory  which  we  hail  to-day 

Perch  firmly  here,  and  here  endure  for  aye  ! 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Men,  citizens,  seniors  of  the  Argives  here, 
I  blush  not  to  rehearse  before  you  all  890 

My  passion  for  my  lord.  With  time's  decay 
The  fear  of  man  decayeth.  Nothing  taught 
By  others  will  I  tell  you,  but  myself 


AGAMEMNON.  117 

The  miseries  I  will  relate  of  so  long  life, 

While  he  lay  Troy  before.     And  first,  to  sit  895 

A  desolate  woman  in  a  lonely  house, 

No  man  beside,  is  hard,  with  rumors  oft, 

Perplexed  and  terrible,  which  one  brings  in 

Breathless,  and  straight  another  doth  succeed 

With  worser  yet,  and  fills  the  house  with  woe.  900 

This  hero  whom  you  see,  had  he  been  pierced 

As  oft  as  I  had  tidings  here  at  home 

That  he  was  wounded,  fuller  than  a  net 

Had  been  of  holes,  I  ween ;  and  had  he  died 

For  every  telling  on  Jt,  he  should  have  had  90s 

More  coverings  of  earth  his  bones  above 

Than  three-bodied  Geryones  of  old, 

Once  in  each  body  slain,  and  once  entombed. 

.A-nrt    irkon^    in    rny    rtaapnir^    -Pm*    cmoli    »opox-£a 

I  also  would  have  died,  that  from  my  neck  910 

The  suicidal  noose  full  oft  they  tore. 

And  hence  it  is  that  he,  our  chiefest  pledge 

Of  fond  affections,  stands  not  by  my  side, 

Orestes,  as  he  should.     Yet  marvel  not. 

Him  doth  thy  trusty  comrade  hold  in  charge,  915 

Strophios  of  Phokis ;  for  he  bade  me  fear 

Twofold  calamity,  —  thy  fate,  my  lord, 

Troy  walls  before,  and  lest  the  popular  rage 

Should  spurn  all  counsel,  since  the  people's  thought 

Is  aye  to  kick  the  fallen.     Fraud  dwells  not  920 

In  who  so  counsels.     But  to  wretched  me 


118  AGAMEMNON. 

The  very  fount  of  tears,  exhaust  and  dry, 

Hath  failed  from  sorrowing,  —  not  a  drop  to  flow ! 

And  in  the  weary  watches  of  the  night 

Mine  eyes  have  wasted,  when  the  lamps  were  lit,        925 

By  me  unheeded  as  I  wept.     And  oft, 

Roused  by  the  slender  hummings  of  the  gnat, 

From  visions  I  have  started  of  more  wToes 

Than  I  had  slumbered  minutes.     So  that  now 

I  hail  my  lord  as  the  guardian  dog  of  the  fold,          930 

The  stay  which  saves  the  ship,  the  earth-fast  tree 

Which  props  the  roof,  the  one-begotten  son 

Of  an  old  father,  the  land  seen  of  men 

Shipwrecked  and  hopeless  on  the  deep,  the  morn 

Breaking  resplendent  from  a  night  of  storms,  935 

The  crystal  fountain  in  a  barren  waste 

Tu    the    worn    way  Hirer.      'T   io   paaoliig   cmc^O 

Thus  to  escape  at  once  all  thoughts  of  care. 

Envy  us  not,  ye  Gods  !     For  much  of  yore, 

Much  have  we  suffered.     But  thou,  dearest  lord,         940 

Descend  from  this  thy  chariot,  yet  not  set 

Thy  lordly  sole  on  the  earth,  which  trod  the  towers 

Of  Troy  to  dust.     Haste,  maidens,  haste  to  whom 

The  charge  was  given  our  hero's  path  to  strew 

With  tapestry  resplendent.     Let  the  earth  945 

Be  purpled  straightwise,  that  he  so  be  led 

By  Justice  to  an  unexpected  home. 

Then,  the  Gods  willing,  what  remains  to  do 

Sleep  shall  not  hinder,  but  we  '11  do  that  too. 


AGAMEMNON.  119 

AGAMEMNON. 

Offspring  of  Leda,  guardian  of  my  house,  950 

Thy  words  suit  well  my  absence,  both  being  long. 
Praise,  that  would  have  respect  to  be  thought  just, 
Should  come  from  alien  lips,  but  much  less  seem 
Domestic.     For  the  rest,  with  womanish  gauds 
Effeminate  me  not,  before  my  feet  955 

Shouting  barbaric  homage,  nor,  i'  my  path 
Strewing  rare  garments,  wake  the  Gods  to  faction. 
These  honors  are  divine.     Nor  fear  I  not, 
Being  mere  mortal,  with  a  human  foot 
To  tread  this  broidered  luxury;  as  a  man  960 

Revere  me,  not  adore  me  as  a  God. 
Without  soft  foot-cloths,  many-colored  pomp, 
My  fame  hath  found  a  tongue.     Not  to  think  ill 
Is  no  small  gift  of  the  Gods,  and  happy  he 
Who  dies  at  peace  with  fortune.     Might  I  see  965 

Such  end  before  me,  high  my  heart  would  be. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Yet  say  not  thus,  denying  my  request. 

AGAMEMNON. 
Judgment  I  may  not  change  to  worse  from  best. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
In  fear  of  the  Gods,  this  thing  didst  swear  to  do  ? 

AGAMEMNON. 
What  best  to  do  know  I,  if  e'er  man  knew.  970 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Faring  as  thou,  what,  think'st,  had  Priam  done? 


120  AGAMEMNON. 

AGAMEMNON. 
On  tapestry  he  had  walked,  had  he  so  won. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Then  fear  not,  though  the  popular  voice  accuse  thee  wrong. 

AGAMEMNON. 
And  yet  the  popular  voice  speaks  loud  and  long. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
To  live  unenvied  is  an  unblest  life.  975 

AGAMEMNON. 
To  obey  becomes  a  woman;  much  less,  strife. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
E'en  to  be  vanquished  well  beseems  the  great. 

AGAMEMNON. 
Prize  you  so  much  the  winning  i'  this  debate  ? 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Be  swayed  ;  and  kindly  bend  your  will  to  me. 

AGAMEMNON. 

Let  them  unloose  my  feet,  if  it  so  must  be,  930 

Shod  liker  to  a  bondsman's  than  a  king's,  — 
And  0,  the  while  these  purples  I  profane, 
May  no  invidious  eyeshot  of  the  Gods 
Smite  me,  from  heaven  !     For  sin  it  is  and  shame 
The  body's  manhood  to  corrupt,  on  webs  985 

Of  costliest  fabric  trampling,  silver-bought. 
Of  this  enough !     Then  gently  lead  within 
This  stranger  damsel ;  since  the  rule  of  who 
Rule  kindly  pleases  the  Immortals  well, 
And  none,  having  choice,  a  slave  would  choose  to  be.      990 


AGAMEMNON.  121 

But  she,  the  elected  first-flower  of  much  spoil, 
That  army's  gift,  hath  followed  me.     And  lo ! 
Forced  by  those  words  of  thine,  I  hie  me  straight, 
Treading  on  purples,  toward  the  palace-gate. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

There  is  the  sea,  —  who  shall  exhaust  its  flow  ?  —      995 
The  sea,  which  nurtures,  worth  its  silver  weight, 
Much  purple  tincture  never  fading,  dye 
Of  newest  garments.     Nor  our  house,  my  king, 
Lacks  store  of  such,  God  willing ;  nor  knows  aught 
Of  stinted  need.     Rare  treading  upon  these  1000 

There  should  have  been,  to  absolve  me  of  my  vows, 
Had  any  oracle  set  forth  thy  life 
So  to  be  ransomed.     From  a  sudden  root 
Foliage  hath  climbed  the  eaves,  fresh  shade  and  cool 
Against  the  Dog.     And,  as  a  summer  sun  1005 

In  winter  seen,  thy  coming  glads  the  house  ; 
Or  as,  when  Zeus  presses  the  unripe  fruit 
Of  the  wine-grape,  a  pleasant  chill  creeps  in 
Through  the  parched  walls,  their  lord  brings  blessings  home. 
Zeus,  all-fulfilling  Zeus,  fulfil  my  prayer,  lOio 

And  what  thou  wilt  fulfil,  that  have  in  care. 

Exeunt  AGAMEMNON  and  train  into  the  palace.    Manent  KLYTAIMNESTRA, 
KASSANDRA,  and  CHORUS. 

CHORUS. 
Strophe  i. 

Why  ever  present  doth  it  flit, 
This  haunting  phantom  terrible, 


122  AGAMEMNON. 

My  prescient  heart  before  ? 

Why  peals  this  strain,  unbought,  unbidden,  1015 

That  courage  on  my  soul's  dear  throne, 

Casting  it,  like  diseased  dreams,  aside, 

Lightly  can  sit  no  more  ? 

Time  hath  -waxed  old,  since  on  the  strand 

The  galleys  stood  fast-moored  i'  the  sand,  1020 

Where  first  the  host  with  nautic  war 

For  Ilion  made  sail. 

Antistrophe  i. 

But  now,  myself,  I  surely  know 
That  host's  return  triumphant  home, 
Which  mine  own  eyes  behold.  1025 

Yet  still  that  self-taught  dirge  is  pealing, 
Set  to  no  string  of  tuneful  lyres, 
Within  my  soul,  the  Furies'  chant  of  woe, 
Where  hope  no  more  is  bold. 

Nor  errs  my  spirit,  strangely  led  1030 

By  justice  to  conclusion  dread, 
Through  wild  and  whirling  thoughts.     But,  0, 
May  the  dire  presage  fail  1 

Strophe  n. 

No  mortal  bliss  insatiate 

Is  endless  ;  but  its  term  is  nigh,  1035 

For  neighbour,  ever  hard  at  hand, 

Dwells  dark  adversity, 

One  house  within.     And  the  fairest  freight 

Of  fortune  oft  will  strike  the  unseen  rock  ; 


AGAMEMNON.  123 

But  whoso,  weighing  well  his  state,  1040 

Casts  to  the  deep  a  part,  the  whole  to  save, 

His  household  shall  not  founder  in  the  shock, 

Nor  its  hull  sink  in  the  sea-wave. 

The  bounteous  gift  of  Zeus  o'erflowing, 

And  wealth  of  furrows  annual-growing,  1045 

Can  bid  disastrous  famine  stand  aloof 

From  the  contented  peasant's  roof; 

Antistrophe  n. 

But  when  to  earth  the  life-blood  black 

Hath  flowed,  of  mortal  man  once  slain, 

None  may  recall  it  to  the  heart,  1050 

By  charm  of  chanted  strain. 

Zeus  had  been  piteous  else,  and  slack, 

Or  ere  he  smote  that  leech  divine  so  sore, 

Who  knew  the  dead  to  summon  back 

From  the  dim  grave.     But  did  not  Fate,  of  old         1055 

Predestined,  hinder  me  to  fathom  more 

Of  fate  from  the  Gods,  my  heart  had  told 

All  its  drear  thoughts,  my  tongue  outspeeding  ; 

But  now  it  glooms  in  darkness,  breeding 

Wild  woes,  nor  hopes  a  happy  end  to  see,  1060 

Frantic  with  fearful  ecstasy. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Enter  thou  also  in.     To  thee  I  speak, 
Kassandra ;  for  to  thee  this  house  within,  — 
And  many  a  slave  beside,  —  't  is  given  of  Zeus 
The  lustral  lavers  his  own  altar  nigh  1065 


124 


AGAMEMNON. 


To  share  unscathed.     Descend  from  out  thy  car, 

Nor  gloom,  haughty  girl !     For  great  Alkmene's  boy 

To  be  sold,  they  say,  endured,  and  the  yoke  to  bear. 

Nor,  since  this  lot  of  thine  is  fixed  by  fate, 

Light  bliss  it  is  lords  of  ancestral  state  1070 

To  serve.     For  who  to  unhoped  wealth  attain 

Relentless  to  their  slaves  unjustly  reign. 

You  have  my  greetings,  seemly,  short,  and  plain. 

CHORUS. 

To  thee  she  spoke,  — to  thee,  —  straight  words  and  clear, 
And  so  hath  ended.     Thou  being  ta'en  of  fate,          1075 
Yield,  if  yield  mayest !  but  wilt  not  yield,  I  ween. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Sure,  if  she  be  not  like  the  stranger  bird, 
The  vernal  swallow,  of  a  tongue  unknown, 
Barbarical,  my  words  must  win  her  mind. 

CHORUS. 
Obey  her.     That  she  bids  thee  is  the  best  1080 

As  things  now  be.     Dismount  thy  wheeled  throne. 
KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

I  have  not  leisure,  I,  in  words  to  waste 

Here  at  the  door.     For  now  already  stand 

The  destined  victims  of  the  central  hearth, 

Awaiting  steel  and  fire  ;  since  joy  hath  come  io85 

Sudden  and  welcome  to  who  hoped  it  not. 

If,  then,  thou  wilt  obey,  no  tarrying  make. 

But  if  my  words,  unknown,  pierce  not  thine  ear, 

Give  with  thy  barbarous  hand  a  voiceless  sign. 


AGAMEMNON.  125 

CHORUS. 

A  clear  interpreter  she  needs,  strange  wretch,  1090 

Most  like  in  mien  to  a  wild  beast  new  ta'en. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Say  rather  she  is  mad,  and  lists  ill  thoughts, 
As  who,  late  severed  from  a  conquered  home, 
Comes  hither,  nor  knows  how  the  bit  to  abide, 
Till  she  hath  foamed  her  sanguine  rage  away.  1095 

With  words  no  more  I  '11  tempt  her  silent  scorn. 

CHORUS. 

Farther  will  I  forbear,  as  I  have  forborne, 
Pitying,  not  wroth.     Unhappy  one,  descend ; 
And  easy  bend  to  the  yoke,  for  thou  must  bend. 

KLYTAIMXESTRA  rushes  indignant  into  the  palace-gate.    Manent  KASSAN 
DRA  in  her  chariot,  and  the  CHORUS. 

KASSANDRA. 

Strophe  i. 

Ah  !  welladay  !  alas  for  woe  !  1 100 

0  Apollo !  0  Apollo ! 

CHORUS. 

Why  of  the  Loxian  God  dost  so  cry  out  ? 
He  is  not  such  to  need  the  mourner's  shout. 
KASSANDRA. 
Antistrophe  i. 

Ah  !  welladay  !  alas  for  woe  ! 
0  Apollo!  0  Apollo!  1105 

CHORUS. 

Again  to  the  God  she  makes  unseemly  moan, 
When  nought  hath  he  to  do  with  grief  or  groan. 


126  AGAMEMNON. 

KASSANDRA. 
Strophe  n. 

Apollo,  0  Apollo ! 

Way-side  God,  destroyer  mine, 

Thou  hast  destroyed  me  now,  this  second  time.          mo 

CHORUS. 

Her  own  ill  fate  her  prescient  outcry  swells  ; 
Still,  though  a  slave,  the  God  in  her  spirit  dwells. 

KASSANDRA. 

Antistrophe  n. 

Apollo,  0  Apollo ! 

Way-side  God,  destroyer  mine, 

Whither  hast  brought  me  ?     Ho  !  what  house  is  here  ?  1115 

CHORUS. 

The  Atreides'  house.     This  will  I  tell  thee  clear, 
If  thou  knowest  not.     No  lie  shall  cheat  thine  ear. 
KASSANDRA. 

Strophe  in. 

Ah !  ah ! 

To  a  God-hated  house,  —  a  house  accursed,  — 

Witness  these  kindred  slaughters  dread,  1120 

These  suicidal  nooses, 

Man-murderings,  and  pavements  gory-red. 

CHORUS. 

Nothing  at  fault,  this  stranger,  as  a  hound, 
Scents  ancient  murders  on  this  guilty  ground. 

KASSANDRA. 

Antistrophe  in. 

Ah !  ah  !  1125 


AGAMEMNON.  127 

These  ghastly  witnesses  I  must  believe, 
Spectral  blood-boltered  infants  twain, 
Their  hideous  doom  bewailing, 
By  their  own  sire  devoured,  untimely  slain. 

CHORUS. 

Thy  fame  of  old,  prophetic,  reached  our  ear.  1130 

Enough  !     We  need  nor  seers  nor  prophets  here. 
KASSANDRA. 
Strophe  iv. 

What  ho  !  ye  Gods  !     What  now  doth  she  devise  ? 

What  new  stupendous  horror,  — 

Stupendous,  hateful  to  this  roof, 

To  all  its  friends  a  curse  incurable  ?  1135 

And  succour  there  is  none,  —  aid  stands  aloof. 

CHORUS. 

What  now  she  prophesies  I  know  not  true. 
I  know  the  rest ;  for  it  rings  the  whole  state  through. 
KASSANDRA. 
Antistrophe  iv. 

Hold !  hold  !     Abhorred,  wilt  thou  do  the  deed, 

In  baths  luxurious  laving  1140 

Thy  consort  ?     How  shall  I  this  woe 

Tell  to  the  end?     Quickly  shall  it  be  done, 

For  hand  speeds  hand  to  double  blow  on  blow. 

CHORUS. 

I  comprehend  not.     This  is  not  to  mark 
Clear  warnings,  but  enigmas  dim  and  dark.  1145 


128  AGAMEMNON. 

KASSANDRA. 
Strophe  v. 

"Woe  !  woe  !     Ye  Gods !  ye  Gods  !  what  sight  is  this  ? 

Is  it  some  net  of  hell  ? 

The  net,  a  murderess,  a  wife  ! 

Insatiate  o'er  the  race  uplift  your  yell, 

Furies,  for  sacrifice  of  life  1150 

Which  stoning  should  avenge. 

CHORUS. 
Strophe  vi. 

What  fury  o'er  the  house  dost  thou  compel 
To  howl  out  horror  ?     Awful  is  the  cry. 
To  my  heart  it  hath  driven  that  ruddy  drop, 
At  the  fated  hour  which  ceases  to  flow,  1155 

When  dark  the  setting  life-beams  grow. 
Swift  fate  is  surely  nigh. 

KASSANDRA. 

Antislrophe  v. 

Ha  !  ha  !     Behold !     Behold  !     Ho  !  save  the  bull 

From  the  accursed  cow ! 

Him  with  black  horns  fierce  doth  she  gore,  1160 

Entangled  in  the  treacherous  robes ;  and  now 

In  the  bath  he  falls.     The  fate  once  more 

Of  the  treason-bath  I  name. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  vi. 
Though  boast  I  not  the  skill  which  reads  aright 


AGAMEMNON.  129 

Dim  bodings,  this  rings  awful  in  mine  ear.  1165 

For  when  did  oracular  lore  impart 

Any  joy  to  man  ?     For  ever  they  toll, 

Those  dark  words  divine,  to  the  trembling  soul, 

The  knell  of  fateful  fear. 

KASSANDRA. 

Strophe  vn. 

Ay  me !     Ay  me  !     Alas  my  fearful  doom  !  1170 

For  my  own  fate  must  mingle  in  the  cup 

Of  wailing.     Why,  then,  0  thou  ruthless  God, 

Hast  hauled  me  hitherward,  unless  to  die  ? 

Great  God  Apollo,  why  ? 

CHORUS. 
Strophe  vm. 

0  stricken  of  spirit  and  God-possessed  !  1175 

Fearful  to  list  is  thy  melody, 
Bemoaning  thyself  like  that  dark-brown  bird, 
The  pitiful  nightingale, 
Whose  voice  incessant  is  ever  heard 
Her  weary-woful  life  to  wail,  1180 

With  an  "  0  for  Itys !  and  welladay !  " 

KASSANDRA. 
Antistrophe  vn. 

0  for  the  fate  of  the  shrill  nightingale  ! 
For  unto  her  the  Gods  have  given  a  life 
Tearless  and  tuneful,  and  bedecked  her  form 
With  plumy  pinions.     But  it  shall  be  mine  to  feel     1185 
The  cleaving  two-edged  steel. 


130  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  vui. 

0,  how  this  frenzying  insane  woe 
Hast  thou  earned,  0  unhappy  seer? 
Why  with  such  ominous  utterance  dread 
Dost  linger  on  this  lament,  1190 

In  strains  that  bristle  the  hairs  on  my  head. 
Whence  are  these  hideous  bodings  sent,  — 
Through  what  horrible  channels  of  fateful  fear  ? 
KASSANDRA. 
Strophe  ix. 

Ho  !  the  marriage  !     Ho !  the  bed 

Of  fatal  Paris,  friend-destroying  !  1195 

Ho !  clear  waters  of  Scamander, 

My  paternal  river ! 

Once,  my  youthful  ways  enjoying, 

Dwelt  I  on  thy  margins  green ; 

But  soon  shall  grim  Kokytos  and  the  banks  1200 

Of  Acheron  list  my  prophecies,  I  ween. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  x. 

Why  hast  thou  uttered  this  so  wondrous  clear? 
A  new-born  child  might  understand. 
But  I  am  bit  to  the  soul,  a  gory  wound, 
E'en  at  thy  piteous  sorrow's  sound,  1205 

Which  breaks  my  heart  to  hear. 
KASSANDRA. 
Antistrophe  ix. 

Ho  !  the  horrors  !     Ho  !  the  fate 


AGAMEMNON.  131 

Of  the  wretched  ruined  city ! 
Ho !  bull-slaughterings  full  and  frequent 
Of  my  royal  father  !  121$ 

Vain  were  they  to  win  the  pity 
Of  the  powers  who  had  decreed 
That  Troy  must  fall,  as  fall  she  did. 
But  I,  who  weep  for  her,  myself  must  bleed. 
CHORUS. 

Antistrophe  x. 

E'en  as  thy  first  lament,  these  others  tend.  1215 

For  some  dread  demon  on  thy  soul 
Weighs  awful,  and  compels  thy  tuneful  throat 
To  chant  death-songs  of  fellest  note. 
But  I  see  not  to  the  end. 

KASSANDRA. 

And  yet  the  prophecy  no  longer  peers,  1220 

As  a  young  bride,  through  veils,  half-seen  and  shy ; 
But  as  a  fresh  blast  brightening  to  the  beams 
Of  the  new-risen  day,  it  soon  shall  sweep, 
Like  a  billow,  into  sunshine,  stronger  far 
Than  this  strong  horror.     I  will  speak  no  more          1225 
In  riddles  ;  and  bear  witness  ye  how  sure 
I  scent  the  footsteps  of  ancestral  sin. 
For  never  shall  that  band  desert  this  roof, 
Chanting  in  hideous  harmony  their  strains 
Ill-omened.     For  enow  to  make  them  bold  1230 

Of  human  gore  have  they  quaffed,  that  still  they  sit, 
Hard  to  eject,  revelling  the  house  within, 


132  AGAMEMNON. 

Its  kindred  furies  ;  hymning  now  the  hymn 

Of  that  original  guilt,  and  now  the  bed, 

By  a  brother's  sin  defiled,  thereafter  made  1335 

His  punishment  accusing.     Have  I  erred  ?  — 

Or  have  I  shot  my  shaft  as  an  archer  true  ?  — 

Or  am  I  a  false  prophet,  vending  lies 

From  door  to  door  ?     Bear  witness  with  an  oath 

That  I  do  know  the  house,  and  its  sin  of  old.  1340 

CHORUS. 

What  should  an  oath,  a  nobly-plighted  pledge, 
Avail  or  aid  thee?     But  much  marvel  I 
How,  bred  beyond  the  seas,  thou  so  canst  tell 
The  secretest  sins  of  this  a  foreign  town. 

KASSANDRA. 
The  seer  Apollo  gave  me  this  to  see.  1245 

CHORUS. 
Did  thy  charms  so  enchant  the  Deity  ? 

KASSANDRA. 
This  to  confess  ere  while  I  was  ashamed. 

CHORUS. 
By  happiness  we  are  oft  too  finely  framed. 

KASSANDRA. 
He  breathed  most  passionate  love-suits  from  his  breast. 

CHORUS. 
Didst  grant  the  suit  he  sought,  and  make  him  blest  ?      3250 

KASSANDRA. 
I  promised,  but  deceived  the  God  at  last. 


AGAMEMNON.  133 

CHORUS. 
Hadst  thou  learned  then  the  future  to  precast  ? 

KASSANDRA. 
Their  fate  to  my  townsmen  I  did  all  presage. 

CHORUS. 
And  wert  unpunished  by  the  Loxian's  rage? 

KASSANDRA. 
No  one  believed  me,  since  I  so  did  sin.  1255 

CHORUS. 
Yet  I  believe  the  truth  thy  words  is  in. 

KASSANDRA. 

Ho  !    ho  !     New  misery !   new  woe  ! 
Again  the  labor-pangs  of  the  prophet  birth 
Rack  with  their  whirling  preludes  my  poor  soul! 
See  ye  those  children,  seated  on  the  roof, —  1260 

Young  children,  shadowy  as  the  dreams  of  night  ? 
They  are  plain  to  see,  as  infants  foully  slain 
By  who  should  love  them,  holding  in  their  hands 
Most  horrible  food,  most  pitiful,  the  flesh 
Of  their  own  entrails,  which  their  own  sire  ate.          1265 
From  these  I  do  predict,  that,  in  his  bed 
Wallowing,  watching  his  return  at  home, 
Some  coward  lion  plots  revenge  and  death 
Against  my  lord,  — -  for  I  the  yoke  must  bear. 
And  little  knows  he  who  the  great  host  led,  1270 

And  overthrew  Ilion,  what  the  tongue  accursed 
Of  that  she-dog  detested,  fawning  soft, 


1-2 


134  AGAMEMNON. 

And  breathing  blandishment,  like  fate  unseen, 

In  an  ill  day  shall  do ;  so  bold  is  she. 

The  female  is  the  murderess  of  her  mate.  1275 

What  hateful  monster  calling  her,  shall  I 

Call  her  aright  ?  —  the  Amphisbaina  dire, 

Or  Skylla,  dwelling  in  the  cave  o'  the  rock, 

The  mariner's  bane,  the  raging  dam  of  hell, 

Outbreathing  war  to  her  friends,  no  truce  to  be  ?       1280 

Thus  let  her  shout,  all-daring,  as  the  hour 

Of  victory  is  here,  and  seem  to  hail 

His  safe  return.     Believe  me  not,  —  what  then  ? 

What  shall  be  shall  be.     And  ere  long  must  ye, 

Who  pity  me  now,  the  truth  of  these  things  see.       1285 

CHORUS. 

Thyestes'  banquet  on  his  children's  flesh 
I  understood,  and  shuddered.     Horrible  fear 
Holds  me,  the  while  these  awful  truths  I  hear. 
The  rest  escaped  my  mind,  though  it  pierced  my  ear. 

KASSANDRA. 
I  tell  thee,  thou  shalt  see  Agamemnon's  death.          1290 

CHORUS. 
Hold !   hold !  unhappy  wretch,  that  ominous  breath. 

KASSANDRA. 
There  is  no  saving  God,  to  avert  my  say. 

CHORUS. 
Not  if  it  stand ;   but  may  it  fall,  I  pray. 

KASSANDRA. 
Pray  thou,  —  their  care  it  is  how  best  to  slay. 


AGAMEMNON.  135 

CHORUS. 
Upon  whose  head  shall  dread  doom  alight  ?  1295 

KASSANDRA. 
Of  a  truth,  ye  read  my  warnings  all  unright. 

CHORUS. 
True.     For  I  see  not  who  the  doom  shall  wreak. 

KASSANDRA. 
Yet  the  Greek  tongue  I  know,  in  which  I  speak. 

CHORUS. 
Dark  are  the  Pythian  oracles,  —  and  Greek. 

KASSANDRA. 

Ye  Gods !   how  fierce  a  fire  invades  my  soul !  1300 

Spare  me,  Lycean  Apollo,  spare  !     Alas  ! 
She,  the  two-footed  lioness,  who  lay 
With  the  foul  wolf,  the  lordly  lion  afar, 
Shall  slay  me,  —  wretched  me  ;   and  the  death-draught 
Of  vengeance  brewing  in  the  cup  shall  pour  1305 

My  coming,  as  a  drop  of  wrath.     Even  now 
Sharpening  the  blade  against  her  lord,  she  boasts 
That  slaughter  shall  repay  my  bringing  home. 
Why  do  I  still  these  mockeries  retain, 
This  sceptre,  and  these  wreaths  my  neck  around        1310 
Oracular  ?     Thee  I  break,  my  death  before  ! 
And  ye,  —  hence  to  perdition!     I  shall  follow. 
Endow  some  other  with  your  curse,  not  me. 
And  lo!  Apollo  strippeth  me  himself 
Of  this  prophetic  vesture,  seeing  me  1315 

Mocked  oft  in  these  adornments,  friends  among, 


136  AGAMEMNON. 

And  of  my  foes  scorned  openly,  in  vain. 

Thus,  to  be  called  a  stroller,  beggar's  wench, 

Myself  a  beggar,  a  wretch  famine-clung, 

I  have  endured.     And  now  the  prophet's  God,  1320 

Having  undone  me  too  a  prophetess, 

Hath  driven  me  into  these  toils  of  death. 

And,  for  ancestral  altar,  the  grim  block 

Awaits  me,  with  hot  gory  sacrifice. 

Yet  not  dishonored  of  the  Gods  shall  I  die  ;  1335 

For  an  avenger  shall  arise  hereafter, 

A  matricidal  scion,  a  father's  blood 

Requiting;  when  the  exiled  outcast  home 

Shall  rush,  to  put  the  cope-stone  on  the  curse. 

For  a  great  oath  by  the  Gods  is  sworn  above,  1330 

That  his  dying  father's  fall  shall  bring  him  back, 

With  vengeance  in  his  hand.     Why,  then,  should  I, 

A  sojourner  only,  sorrow,  who  have  seen 

Troy  faring  as  she  fared,  and  who  took  her 

Now  perishing  by  the  judgment  of  the  Gods  ?  1335 

Now  I  will  enter.     I  will  dare  to  die. 

But  first  these  gates  of  Hades  I  address, 

Praying  that  I  may  meet  one  sure  short  blow, 

That  unconvulsed,  and  with  a  gush  of  gore 

Easily  flowing,  I  may  sink  asleep.  1340 

CHORUS. 

0  most  unhappy,  most  wise  of  thy  sex, 
Long  hast  thou  spoken,  and  if  spoken  sooth, 


AGAMEMNON.  137 

Seeing  thy  doom,  wherefore  so  daring  tread, 
Like  victim  to  the  altar  divine  of  God? 

KASSANDRA. 
Strangers,  fate  is  not  cheated  by  delay.  1345 

CHORUS. 
And  yet  delay  is  best,  to  the  latest  day. 

KASSANDRA. 
Come  the  day  must.     Little  it  boots  to  fly. 

CHORUS. 
Patient,  be  sure,  thou  art,  and  of  courage  high. 

KASSANDRA. 
To  have  died  nobly  well  beseems  the  dead. 

CHORUS. 
None  hear,  who  happy  are,  such  maxims  dread.        1350 

KASSANDRA. 
Woe  for  thee,  father,  and  thy  noble  race ! 

She  is  about  to  enter  the  palace,  but  falters,  and  shrinks  back  in  horror. 

CHORUS. 
"What  gives  thee  pause  ?     What  terror  pales  thy  face  ? 

KASSANDRA. 
Alas  !    Ay  me  ! 

CHORUS. 
Wherefore  alas  ?     What  horror  now  dost  see  ? 

KASSANDRA. 
The  palace  reeks  with  the  scent  of  gory  death.          1355 

CHORUS. 
And  how?  —  I  taste  the  altar's  fumy  breath. 

12* 


138  AGAMEMNON". 

KASSANDRA. 
Like  to  the  charnel  blasts  o'  the  loathly  grave. 

CHORUS. 
Thou  speakest  not  of  the  Syrian  incense  brave. 

KASSANDRA. 

I  go  this  hour  within,  my  fate  to  wail, 
And  Agamemnon's.     So  —  of  life  enow  !  1360 

In  idle  fear  I  shrink  not,  as  the  bird 
On  wing  for  the  brake.     This,  witness  for  me  dead, 
When,  for  my  woman's  blood,  a  woman  dies, 
And,  for  a  man  cursed  in  his  wife,  a  man. 
This  prophecy  I  leave  you,  my  death-gift.  1365 

CHORUS. 
Poor  wretch !  I  pity  thee  thy  fate  foreseen. 

KASSANDRA. 

Once  more  my  parting  speech,  my  dirge  of  death, 
I  would  myself  repeat.     Therefore,  thou  sun, 
Upgazing  at  thy  light  for  this  last  time, 
I  do  implore  thee  that  mine  enemies  1370 

May  rue  my  murder,  at  the  avenger's  hand 
Suffering  the  like,  —  even  as  I  a  slave 
Perish,  subdued  right  easily.     Alas 
For  poor  humanity!     A  passing  shade, 
If  prosperous,  destroys  it ;  a  wet  sponge  1375 

Abolishes  the  picture  at  a  stroke, 
If  adverse.     This  it  is  I  most  deplore. 

KASSANDRA  rushes  into  the  palace  to  encounter  her  fate.  The  doors  close 
behind,  and  the  stage  is  left  unoccupied  for  the  second  time,  except  by  the 
CHORUS. 


AGAMEMNON.  139 

Scene  as  before.     The  CHORUS  alone,  before  the  palace-gates. 

CHORUS. 

Ever  insatiate  and  uncontent 
Of  bliss  are  men ;  nor  e'er  is  it  said 
By  the  dwellers  of  happiest  homes,  "  Enough  !  1330 

Pass  by  the  doors,  and  farther  fare," 
When  fortune  would  enter  in. 
To  our  king  it  was  given  the  city  to  win 
Of  Priam  the  great, 

And  he  hath  come  home  in  victorious  state.  1335 

But  now  if  the  blood  he  hath  shed  of  old 
Atoned  must  be,  that  he  must  die 
The  death  of  others  to  wipe  away, 
And  the  debt  of  fate  by  his  doom  repay, 
Who  would  rejoice,  that  hears  this  told,  1390 

To  be  born  unto  destinies  high  ? 

AGAMEMNON  (within). 
Ho!   I  am  stricken  with  a  mortal  stroke! 

FIRST  CHOREUTES. 
Peace !     Of  one  struck  to  the  death  I  hear  the  cry. 

AGAMEMNON  (within). 
What  ho!  again!  twice  stricken,  that  I  die. 

SECOND  CHOREUTES. 
By  the  king's  wail,  the  deed  is  done,  I  wot.  1395 

THIRD  CHOREUTES. 
Sure  counsel  take  we  then,  that  we  err  not. 

FOURTH  CHOREUTES. 

Listen  to  me,  my  friends ;   I  thus  advise : 
Cry  we  the  citizens  with  aid  to  rise. 


140 


AGAMEMNON. 


FIFTH  CHOREUTES. 

I  rather  counsel  on,  ourselves,  to  set, 
And  seize  the  slayers  while  their  swords  are  wet.      1400 

SIXTH  CHOREUTES. 

This  latter  counsel  I  will  not  gainsay, 
But  vote  to  do.     Time  is  not  for  delay. 

SEVENTH  CHOREUTES. 

Behooves  us  much  observe  ;  what  these  now  do 
Portends  tyrannic  rule  the  kingdom  through. 

EIGHTH  CHOREUTES. 

We  loiter ;  they  act,  casting  doubt  aside,  1405 

With  swiftest  hands  what  surest  thoughts  decide. 

NINTH  CHOREUTES. 

I  know  not  which  opinion  best  to  choose. 
Who  acts,  deliberation  first  should  use. 

TENTH  CHOREUTES. 

With  thee  I  doubt.     Lies  not  within  my  ken 
How  to  recall  the  dead  to  life  again.  1410 

ELEVENTH  CHOREUTES. 

Shall  we,  then,  yield  us  to  the  sway  life-long 
Of  who  the  house  have  filled  with  foulest  wrong  ? 

TWELFTH  CHOREUTES. 

This  may  not  be.     Rather  I  choose  to  die  ; 
For  better  death  than  deathful  tyranny. 
THIRTEENTH  CHOREUTES. 

Must  we  then  judge,  from  outcries  scarce  heard  plain,  1415 
That  Agamemnon  certainly  is  slain  ? 


AGAMEMNON.  141 

FOURTEENTH  CHOREUTES. 

Befits  who  hath  sure  knowledge  this  to  show. 
'T  is  one  thing  to  conjecture,  —  one  to  know. 

FIFTEENTH  CHOREUTES. 

This,  therefore,  I  adjudge  the  wisest  plan, — 
To  learn  at  once  his  fate,  as  learn  we  can.  1420 

The  scene  here  changes  suddenly,  the  whole  front  of  the  palace  being  withdrawn 
by  machinery,  so  as  to  display  the  interior;  for  it  is  to  be  understood  that  the 
CHORUS,  having  completed  their  deliberations,  force  their  way  in  at  the  gates, 
and  are  now  within  the  palace. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA  is  discovered,  standing  near  the  silver  laver,  with  the  bloody 
axe  in  her  hand;  the  bodies  of  AGAMEMNON,  entangled  in  the  sleeveless  robe, 
and  of  KASSANDRA  at  her  feet. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Much  having  said  before  to  suit  the  time, 
I  shame  not  now  plain  the  reverse  to  speak; 
For  who,  that  a  foe  would  smite,  presumed  a  friend, 
Could  pitch  the  toils  of  fate,  prepared  before, 
So  not  to  be  overleaped,  if  he  did  not  so  ?  1425 

Of  ancient  strife  conceived,  and  plotted  long, 
This  conflict  I  adventured,  now  complete 
In  time's  completion.     Where  I  stuck  I  stand, 
And  what  is  done  is  done.     'T  was  I,  even  I, 
The  deed  who  did,  nor  will  that  deed  deny,  1430 

That  he  his  doom  should  neither  fight  nor  fly. 
With  toils  inextricable  hemmed  about 
Of  fatal  garments  rich,  like  a  fish  i'  the  net, 
I  smote  him  twice,  that  with  two  death-groans  deep 
His  nerveless  limbs  relaxed  ;   whereat,  I  smote  1435 

Yet  a  third  time  the  fallen,  a  last  blow. 


142  AGAMEMNON. 

A  votive  gift  to  the  saviour  of  the  dead, 

The  subterranean  Hades.     Thus  he  fell, 

Thus  gasped  his  life  away,  and,  snorting  forth 

Sharp-gushing  blood-gouts,  with  the   gory  dew  1440 

Of  that  black  death-shower  smote  me,  nothing  loath, 

Nor  less  rejoicing  in  its  tepid  flow 

Than  the  glebe  joys  at  heaven's  prolific  rains 

What  time  the  flowers  are  born.     Now,  Argives  old, 

Rejoice  at  these  things,  if  rejoice  ye  may,  1445 

Which  I  exult  to  have  done.     But  if  it  were  meet 

To  pour  libations  on  a  corpse,  't  were  done 

Bight  justly ;  for  most  just  it  is  that  he 

Who  filled  the  cup  of  curses  to  the  brink 

For  all  his  house  himself  the  cup  should  drink.  1450 

CHORUS. 

I  marvel  at  thy  tongue  so  badly  bold 
O'er  thine  own  lord  such  boastful  speech  to  hold. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Ye  try  me  as  a  woman,  light  and  vain. 
But  from  a  soul  undaunted  to  who  know 
Speak  I.     Praise  ye,  or  blame,  alike  to  me.  1455 

There  Agamemnon  lies,  my  wedded  lord, 
The  slain  of  this  right  hand,  —  most  righteous  deed 
Of  righteous  doer.     This  is  that  ye  see. 

CHORUS. 

Strophe. 

Woman,  what  horrid  thing, 
Or  esculent  of  earth,  1460 


AGAMEMNON.  143 

Or  potion  from  the  flowing  sea, 

Hast  tasted,  on  thyself  to  bring 

This  scent  of  sacrifice  and  popular  curse  ? 

Stricken  thou  hast,  and  cleft  with  the  sword, 

And  so  exiled  shall  be,  1465 

Wretch,  by  the  state  abhorred. 

KLYTAIMNESTIIA. 

Exile  to  me,  to  me  the  citizens'  hate, 
And  popular  curses,  well  dost  thou  proclaim, 
Like  sentence  upon  him  who  now  lies  there 
Proclaiming,  —  who  regarded  not  the  life  1470 

Of  his  own  child  a  slaughtered  sheep's  before, 
Though  flocks  abounded  in  his  fleecy  folds, 
But  slew  her,  dearest  labor  of  my  womb, 
A  charm  the  Thracian  tempests  to  allay. 
And  must  thou  not  him  too  expel  the  land  1475 

Redeeming  such  pollution  ?    0,  not  thou  ! 
Who  judgest,  on  the  hearing  of  my  deeds, 
Most  sternly.     But  I  tell  thee,  what  I  look 
To  bear  from  thee  if  victor,  with  that  same 
I  threat  thee,  for  if  God  grant  it  not  so,  1480 

Taught  wisdom  shalt  thou  be,  though  late,  by  woe. 
CHORUS. 
Antistrophe. 

In  counsel  great  thou  art, 

And  haughty  is  thy  speech. 

Such  dark  and  bloody  doing 

Hath  frenzy-struck  thy  heart,  1485 


144  AGAMEMNON. 

And  in  thine  eyes  the  hue  of  gore  is  seen. 
Thou,  therefore,  too  shalt  bleed, 
In  friendless  anguish  ruing 
This  foul  and  felon  deed. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Thou  hearest  the  solemn  import  of  mine  oath.  1490 

For  by  the  perfect  vengeance  of  my  child, 
Ate,  and  Erinnys,  I  swear,  to  whom  this  man 
I  sacrificed,  the  house  of  fear  to  tread 
I  look  not,  while  Aigisthos  on  my  hearth 
Kindles  the  sacred  flames,  still  as  of  old  1495 

To  me  most  friendly;  for  I  hold  his  love 
A  shield  of  no  small  daring  to  my  soul. 
He  who  disgraced  my  woman  heart  lies  there, 
The  darling  joy  of  the  Chrysei'des 

Ilion  before,  —  and  she  the  spear-won,  she  1500 

His  star-gazer  and  bedmate,  she  his  seer 
Who  slept  so  faithful  in  his  arms,  and  sate 
Beside  him  on  the  rower's  bench.     Nor  so 
Unmeetly  have  they  fared.     For  his  own  deeds 
Fell  he.     And  she,  his  sweetheart,  by  his  side,          1505 
When  swan-like  she  had  sung  her  last  sad  strain, 
Sleeps  as  her  wont,  and  by  that  bed  of  death 
Adds  to  my  present  pleasure  boundless  bliss. 
SEMICHORUS. 

Strophe  i. 

Alas !  I  would  some  swift  and  sudden  fate 
Upon  my  soul  eternal  sleep  would  throw,  1510 


AGAMEMNON.  145 

Unvisited  by  death-bed  pain, 

Nor  lingering  late; 

Since  I  have  seen  my  sovereign  slain, 

So  good,  so  gallant,  and  so  great, 

Who  for  a  woman  bore  such  woe  1515 

Upon  a  foreign  plain, 

To  fall  beneath  a  woman's  coward  blow  ! 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  n. 

Woe  !   Frantic  Helen,  woe  ! 

Who  singly  hast  cut  short 

So  many,  yea !  so  many  a  mortal  life  1520 

On  the  Trojan  plain  ! 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  in. 

Who  now  hast  brought  from  bud  to  bloom, 
By  this  inexpiable  gore 
Perfected  here, 

That  oft-renewed  and  memorable  strife,  1525 

Which  to  the  house  was  doomed  of  yore, 
Its  master's  bane. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Strophe  iv. 

Pray  not  now  for  the  death-dealing  blow, 
Bewailing  this  that  is  done ; 

Nor  cast  upon  Helene  all  the  guilt  1530 

Of  the  heroes  slain,  and  the  life-blood  spilt, 
As  if  she  had  brought  this  endless  woe 

]3 


146  AGAMEMNON. 

On  the  Danaans,  sole  cause  of  ill, 
And  man-murderess  only  she. 

SEMICHORUS. 

Antistrophe  i. 

Thou  dreadful  Daimon,  that  dost  smite  so  sore  1535 

The  twofold  house  of  the  Tantalidas, 

Steeling  each  woman's  heart  and  hand 

With  mettle  male, 

That  they  the  manliest  parts  have  planned, 

Causing  my  heart  with  grief  to  fail,  1540 

Like  the  night-crow  thou  seemest  to  me 

Perched  on  the  corse  to  stand, 

The  death-hymn  croaking  with  unearthly  glee. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  n. 

[  This  and  the  following  are  loth  lost  from"  the  text.] 
***** 

Antistrophe  in. 

***** 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Antistrophe   iv. 

Now  thou  wordest  thy  judgment  well, 

Proclaiming  the  Daimon  dread  1545 

Who  has  worked  to  the  house  such  woe  of  yore  ; 

For  by  him  is  the  blood-lapping  thirst  of  gore 

Implanted,  for  aye  in  their  souls  to  dwell. 

From  ancient  anguish  comes  slaughter  new, 

This  ere  that  has  passed  away.  1550 


AGAMEMNON. 


147 


SEMICHORUS. 
Strophe  v. 

Truly  thou  namest  the  Daimon  dire 

And  hostile  to  the  house ; 

Woe  !   woe !   an  awful  name, 

Full  of  destructive  sin  insatiate, 

And  that  through  Zeus,  who  planneth  all  1555 

And  bringeth  all  to  pass. 

For  what  to  man  can  e'er  befall 

Unless  by  Zeus  ?   or  what  of  this,  now  done, 

Not  done  by  the  God's  decree? 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  vi. 

Alas!  alas!  ™ 

How  shall  I  mourn  thee,  my  king,  my  king, 
How  shall  I  give  my  affection  tongue, 
In  the  spider's  web  thus  looking  on  thee, 
Entangled  and  gasping  out  thy  breath 
By  a  fate  so  foul  to  see.  1565 

SEMICHORUS. 
Strophe  vn. 

For  the  slavish  bed,  alas   and  0  ! 
On  which  thou  art  laid  in  death  ; 
Smitten  down  by  a  treacherous  hand, 
And  a  two-edged  axe's  blow. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Strophe  vm. 

Thou  sayest  that  this  is  all  my  deed,  1570 

Nor  hast  it  in  thy  mind 


148  AGAMEMNON. 

That  of  Agamemnon  I  was  the  wife, 

And  that  he,  the  awful  avenger  old, 

Likening  himself  to  the  spouse  of  the  slain, 

The  requiter  of  Atreus,  that  banqueter  dread,  1575 

On  this  one's  head  hath  avenged  the  sin 

By  the  sacrifice  of  a  full-grown  man 

To  the  spirits  of  the  joung. 

SEMICHORUS. 
Antistrophe   v. 

Who  shall  avouch  thee  unstained  of  blood, 

And  guiltless  of  this  crime  ?  1580 

Whence,  —  whence  shall  proof  be  brought  ? 

For  his  father's  sin,  some  stern  avenging  God 

Perchance  it  is  who  smote  him  sore. 

Black  Ares  ramps  sublime 

In  kindred  streams  of  crimson  hue,  1585 

Whence,  rushing  onward,  vengeance  he  shall  take 

For  the  children's  clotted  gore. 

CHORUS. 
Antistrophe  vi. 

Alas !  alas ! 

How  shall  I  mourn  thee,  my  king,  my  king, 

How  shall  I  give  my  affection  tongue,  1590 

In  the  spider's  web  thus  looking  on  theer 

Entangled  and  gasping  out  thy  breath 

By  a  fate  so  foul  to  see  ? 

SEMICHORUS. 
Antistrophe  vn. 

For  the  slavish  bed,  alas  and  0  ! 


AGAMEMNON.  149 

On  which  thou  art  laid  in  death ;  1595 

Smitten  down  by  a  treacherous  hand, 
And  a  two-edged  axe's  blow. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Antistrophe  vm. 

Not  an  unworthy  or  slavish  death 

Has  taken  him,  I  ween. 

For  did  he  not  also,  his  house  within,  1600 

Strike  a  savage  and  treacherous  blow  ? 

And,  cruelly  slaying  my  fairest  flower, 

My  Iphigeneia  the  much  bewept, 

Justly  hath  suffered.     Nor  hath  he  to  boast 

In  the  halls  of  Hades,  for  he  hath  been  slain  1605 

By  the  steel,  even  as  he  slew. 

SEMICHORTJS. 
Strophe  ix. 

Almost  of  mind  bereft, 

No  thought  have  I  at  hand 

Whither  to  flee  when  the  house  shall  fall. 

For  the  pattering  I  dread  of  the  bloody  shower         1610 

Which  the  house  shall  o'erthrow.     For  in  gouts  no  more, 

But  in  torrents,  it  dashes.     The  hand  of  Fate 

Is  setting  on  whetstones  the  vengeful  brand, 

And  on  other  whetstones  Justice  too, 

Unto  other  deeds  of  predestined  hate.  1615 

CHORUS. 

Strophe  x. 

0  Earth!    0  Earth! 

13* 


150  AGAMEMNON. 

I  would  in  thy  breast  thou  hadst  hidden  my  head, 

Or  ere  I  had  seen  my  noble  king 

In  the  silver  bath  lie  dead. 

Who  shall  entomb  him  ?    his  dirge  who  sing  ?  1620 

"Wilt  thou  be  so  bold, 

Thy  lord  who  slewest, 

To  weep  and  wail  o'er  his  ashes  cold,  — 

Unjustly  to  render  a  service  of  love, 

A  service  unwelcome,  as  if  to  atone  1625 

The  great  crime  thou  hast  done  ? 

SEMICHORUS. 

Strophe  xi. 

Who  the  funeral  burst  of  worthiest  praise, 
Pointing  the  godlike  man  with  tears, 
In  truth  of  soul  shall  raise  ? 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Strophe  XH. 

Thee  it  becomes  not  to  speak  of  this  care.  1630 

By  my  hand  he  fell,  — 

By  my  hand  he  perished,  and  I  who  did  slay 

Will  lay  him  to  sleep  in  his  tomb,  unwept 

By  the  tears  of  his  household,  who  mourn  him  not. 

But  Iphigeneia,  his  daughter  fair,  1635 

Shall  joyfully  meet  him,  as  well  beseems, 

At  the  swift-flowing  ferry  of  sorrows,  and  throw 

Her  arms  round  the  neck  of  her  father  dear, 

And  greet  him  with  a  kiss. 


AGAMEMNON.  151 

SEMICHORUS. 
Antistrophe  ix. 

Out  of  disgrace,  disgrace  1640 

Hath  come  to  pass.     But  hard 

It  is  to  judge  of  this  wretched  strife. 

For  evil  of  old  bringeth  evil  new, 

And  the  slayer  his  deed  must  repay  with  his  life. 

For  the  doer  must  suffer  his  deed's  reward,  1545 

In  the  time  that  awaiteth  the  waiting  of  Zeus. 

And  who  from  his  house  can  expel  the  race 

Of  curses  attached  to  his  line  by  fate  ? 

CHORUS. 

Antistrophe  x. 

***** 

Antistrophe  xi. 

***** 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 
Antistrophe  xn. 

With  truth  hast  thou  come  to  this  oracle  clear  ; 

And  therefore  I  choose,  1650 

With  the  Daimon  dread  of  the  Pleisthenidae 

A  truce  having  sw^orn,  to  abide  content 

With  the  past,  though  hard  to  abide  ;   but  now, 

That  he  shall  abandon  our  house,  to  plague 

With  avenging  slaughters  some  other  race.  1655 

For,  holding  a  part  of  the  house's  wealth 

And  allaying  its  mutual-murderous  rage, 

No  more  of  state  I  crave. 


152  AGAMEMNON. 

Enter  AiGiSTHOS//wtt  the  palace,  with  a  band  of  armed  followers. 
AlGISTHOS. 

0  blessed  light  of  this  avenging  day  ! 

Now  can  I  say  the  unforgetting  Gods  1660 

From  their  supernal  height  the  woes  regard 

Of  men,  beholding  him  i'  the  woven  robes 

Of  the  Erinnyes  outstretched,  —  a  sight 

Most  glad,  —  atoning  thus  his  father's  deed, 

Done  long  ago.     His  father  monarch  then,  1665 

Atreus,  in  Argos  here,  after  debate 

For  sovereignty  and  sway,  Thyestes  drave, 

My  father,  his  own  brother  sooth  to  say, 

From  home  and  country.     But  the  sad  exile, 

Returning  suppliant  to  the  hearth,  received  1670 

Safety  and  life,  that  he  defiled  not 

Himself  his  native  soil  with  his  mortal  gore. 

But  Atreus,  the  ungodly  sire  of  who 

Lies  there,  at  the  guest-board  as  a  feast  of  faith  — 

Fiercely  not  friendly  —  set  my  sire  before,  1675 

When  most  he  seemed  the  festive  day  to  urge 

In  banqueting,  his  murdered  children's  flesh. 

Himself  apart,  sitting  aloft  the  deas, 

Severed  the  feet  and  fingers  from  the  trunk, 

That  so,  not  marking  what  he  ate,  he  ate  1680 

A  meal  accursed,  and  ruinous  to  the  race, 

As  ye  behold  it  now.     But  when  he  knew 

The  horror,  he  howled  out,  and  backward  fell, 

Sick,  from  the  feast  of  slaughter ;  nor  did  not 


AGAMEMNON.  153 

Most  justly  link  that  violated  board  1685 

With  imprecated  death  to  one  and  all 

The  proud  Pelopidse,  that  so  might  perish 

The  race  entire  of  Pleisthenes.     By  these, 

By  these,  ye  see  him,  whom  ye  see,  so  fallen, 

And  I  it  is  who  this  his  slaughter  planned,  1690 

Most  justly.     For  me,  yet  a  weanling  child, 

With  others  twelve,  my  brethren,  forth  he  drave, 

And  him  my  woful  father.     But  this  day 

Justice  hath  brought  me  back  full-grown,  a  man. 

And,  though  afar,  I  smote  him,  even  I,  1695 

For  mine  the  plot,  the  counsel  only  mine. 

Happy  therefore  and  proud  to  fall  were  I, 

Who  have  beheld  my  foe  so  basely  die. 

CHORUS. 

Aigisthos,  most  the  coward's  brag  I  scorn. 
Thyself,  thou  boastest  to  have  slain  this  man          •    1700 
Aforethought,  and  alone  to  have  devised 
This  pitiful  murder.     Therefore  thou,  I  say, 
Nor  popular  doom  nor  stoning  shalt  escape. 

AIGISTHOS. 

Thou,  sitting  at  the  lowest  oar,  sayest  this, 
When  they  who  row  above  command  the  ship.  1705 

Soon  shalt  thou  know,  being  old,  how  hard  it  is 
For  such  to  learn,  when  ordered,  wise  to  be. 
But  fetters  and  sharp  hunger's  pinching  pain 
Wondrous  mind-curers  are  the  old  to  teach, 
Prophetical.     Seeing  this,  wilt  not  see  ?  1710 

Kick  not  against  the  spur,  or  spurred  shalt  be. 


154  AGAMEMNON. 

CHORUS. 

Woman,  hast  thou,  who  shouldst  have  kept  the  house 
For  those  late  come  from  war,  his  bed  defiled, 
And  planned  this  murder  for  thy  warrior  lord  ? 

AlGISTHOS. 

Such  words  as  these  of  tears  the  prelude  are.  1715 

The  tongue  of  Orpheus  was  most  unlike  thine  ; 
He  all  things  captive  led  by  his  joyous  strain. 
Thou,  having  angered  all  by  yelpings  vain, 
Captive  thyself,  reverence  shalt  learn  through  pain. 

CHORUS. 

And  dost  thou  think  in  Argos  to  be  king,  1720 

Who,  when  thou  hadst  the  hero's  slaughter  planned, 
Daredst  not  to  do  it  with  thine  own  right  hand  ? 

AlGISTHOS. 

Sure  was  it  that  his  wife  could  him  deceive, 

When  me  he  held  suspect  of  old  his  foe. 

But  by  his  treasures  here  his  realm  to  rule  1725 

Straight  I  address  me.     Who  obeys  not,  he, 

Even  as  a  bean-fed  colt  that  draws  not  true, 

The  yoke  shall  feel  right  sore.     Darkness  combined 

With  hateful  hunger  soon  shall  see  him  kind. 

CHORUS. 

Wherefore,  0  villain  of  a  coward  soul,  1730 

Not  slay  the  man  thyself,  —  but  she,  the  wife, 
Pollution  of  the  country  and  country's  Gods, 
Slew  him  ?     0,  lives  there  not,  somewhere  on  earth, 
Orestes,  who,  returning,  both  shall  slay, 
A  great  avenger,  on  a  happy  day  ?  1735 


AGAMEMNON.  155 

AlGISTHOS. 

If  so  wilt  speak,  so  do,  ere  long  shalt  better  know. 
Ready,  be  ready,  friends.     It  comes,  the  expected  blow. 

CHORUS. 
So  be  it.     One  and  all,  on  every  hilt  a  hand ! 

AlGISTHOS. 

To  die  refuse  I  not,  but  draw  the  deadly  brand. 

CHORUS. 
We  would  have  thee  die ;   so  hail  thy  words,  that  death 

foreshow.  1740 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

No  more,  beloved  of  men,  no  more  work  we  of  woe  ! 
To  reap  this  harvest  hath  enough,  more  than  enough,  of 

guilt. 

Horror  abounds.  Then,  0,  let  no  more  blood  be  spilt ! 
And  ye,  old  men,  to  his  appointed  house  each  one 
Away,  ere  aught  of  ill  be  suffered  or  be  done.  1745 
What  we  have  wrought  was  fate.  But  if  enough  can  be 
Of  woes  and  sufferings  such  as  these,  enough  have  we,  — 
We  whom  the  Daimon's  heavy  wrath  so  sore  hath  strook. 
These  be  a  woman's  words.  Who  deigns  learn,  to  them 

look. 

CHORUS. 

Not  for  the  Greeks  it  is  a  coward  to  revere. 

AlGISTHOS. 

I  shall  some  time  be  there,  that  ye  at  least  shall  fear. 

CHORUS. 
Not  if  the  Daimon  bring  Orestes  home  again . 


156  AGAMEMNON. 

AlGISTHOS. 

I  know  that  exiles  feed  on  fleeting  hopes  and  vain. 

CHORUS. 
Sin  !  revel  in  your  sin  !  mock  justice  while  ye  may. 

AlGISTHOS. 

This  foolery,  be  sure,  right  dearly  shall  ye  pay.        1755 

CHORUS. 
Crow  cheerful,  like  the  cock  by  his  hen  at  break  of  day. 

KLYTAIMNESTRA. 

Heed  thou  their  yelpings  not.     For  I  and  thou  will  choose 
The  palace  how  to  order  best,  —  as  monarchs  use. 


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